


Untamed Thoughts

by Gaylagher



Series: The Story of Blue and Ginger [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-07 08:55:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11055618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaylagher/pseuds/Gaylagher
Summary: With his ex leaving him fresh in his mind, Ian meets a raven-haired man (Mickey) at work and he is instantly attracted to the man. After his friend takes him to a gay club, Ian departs earlier than his companion does, and meets the same raven-haired man in a cafe, and become friends, who, eventually, fall hopelessly in love with each other.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AHH this is an AU and i actually enjoyed making this. it's fun creating a plot and using minimal canon plots as possible.
> 
> also, i suck at summaries.
> 
> also (x2), i was inspired by another gallavich fanfic called None the wiser by Loftec. y'all should check it out, it's fucking amazing.

“Enjoy your food,” Ian said, the muscles in his face pulling the corners of his mouth upwards in a half-hearted smile as he walked away from two men. He still worked at Patsy’s, but instead of staying a busboy, he was a waiter, which meant he had to pretend to actually be in a good mood.

He wasn’t.

He looked up at the booth that his boyfriend, Andre, would sit at, occasionally giving Ian a smile and a wave. _He_ _’_ _s not here, moron. He doesn_ _’_ _t want to deal with your fucked up brain anymore._ Ian couldn’t blame him. Ian didn’t want to deal with his own fucked up brain, why would anyone else want to?

That morning, Andre left their small apartment complex, with a note; _I can_ _’_ _t deal with this anymore. I_ _’_ _m sorry._ Ian had woken up, expecting to be greeted by the mouth-watering smell of bacon and his way-too-perky boyfriend, only to be greeted by the low hum of the vent, the lack of bacon and that note. For the first time in a long, long time, Ian felt an emotion. Not a positive one, but an emotion nonetheless.

And so, Ian carried on his usual routine, this time his mind lingering on the fact that the booth that Andre sat in was empty.

Until around lunchtime.

The restaurant was buzzing with hipsters who recently moved in the South Side and wanted to check out the places around here. Ian shook his head. Frank would ramble on and on about all these hipsters gentrifying the hood, while slurring over his words and his beer sloshing in his mug.

His eyes glanced over at Andre’s booth, and saw a couple sitting there, with a baby in the woman’s arms. The baby had bright green eyes, matching its mother’s eyes, who was in a heated conversation with what Ian assumed was the father.

The mother had light brown hair, bangs covering one of her eyebrows, swept to the side, and her expression hard. The father, had black hair that was swept to one side, and sapphire eyes that contrasted the dark hair and eyebrows. He licked his lips while opening his mouth to snap at the mother. Ian couldn’t help but stare at the man. He was gorgeous.

 _He_ _’_ _s probably married and straight,_ a nagging voice in his voice had reminded him. Ian huffed in frustration, and went over to the couple anyways, finding it easier to smile in the presence of the raven-haired man. Both the mother and father had stopped their bickering and looked up at Ian, the man’s sapphire eyes lingering on Ian than expected, before looking at his fingers, and picking at his chewed fingernails. “Are you both ready to order?”

The woman’s eyes didn’t leave the man’s face as the man inspected his nails. “No,” the woman replied in a thick accent, reluctantly tearing away from her husband to look at Ian

“Alright,” Ian said, “take your time.” The woman gave Ian a closed-mouth smile, and Ian walked away to leave the bickering couple alone.

 

***************

 

“We’re gonna go to the White Swallow,” Casey had announced, “that means you and me, Riding Hood.” He looked pointedly at Ian. They were at the small apartment complex that Ian and Andre shared, before Andre left.

“Do I get a say in this?” Ian asked.

“Nope. I’m gonna hook you up with a dick so good you’ll forget about your asshole of an ex,” Casey replied, shoving food in his mouth.

“He wasn’t an asshole,” Ian defended.

“He left you,” Casey said. “That’s kind of an ass move.”

“Yeah,” a female’s voice chimed in. Both Ian and Casey jumped at the voice. “Door was open, so I invited myself in.” Mandy grinned. Ian rolled his eyes at Mandy. Ian met both Casey and Mandy at the diner they worked at. Soon enough, the two of them would visit and Ian would sit with them on his break, chatting and laughing about anything and everything. They were Ian’s ride or die.

“I didn’t expect him to handle my illness,” Ian muttered. He would be lying to himself if he said it didn’t hurt. It did. It hurt like a bitch. His heart twisted in agony and his apartment still smelled of Andre’s cologne. Ian had cried his eyes out in the morning, and had run out of tears by now to cry even more.

“Fuck him,” Mandy said. Ian didn’t want to talk about this anymore. Sadness washed over him and his heart ached. He just wanted this day to fucking end, for the hurt to end.

Both Mandy and Casey must have read Ian’s mind, because Mandy twirled her dyed blonde hair absentmindedly. “Hey, Ian, is your brother single?”

“Carl?” Ian asked, feigning a confused expression. He knew which one she was talking about. He just wanted to mess with her.

“No.”

“Liam? _Gross,_ Mands. He’s fucking 4.” He looked at Mandy, a fake disgusted expression on his face, while the corners of his mouth threatened to curve upwards, and his chest was filled with the bubbly feeling of laughter stuck inside. Mandy groaned in frustration and hit him with his pillow. “Ow!” Ian complained.

“Lip, moron,” Mandy said, hitting Ian with the pillow again, while Casey watched, amused.

“Yeah,” Ian answered honestly. “Yeah, he is.”

Mandy’s face lit up like the streets of Chicago at night. “Cool,” Mandy vaguely said.

“Anyways,” Casey said, his chocolate eyes on Ian’s emerald ones. “We’re gonna go to the White Swallow, and you’ll get a dude to fuck.”

Ian sighed in exasperation. He had no say in this whatsoever, which is something he found incredibly unfair. “That’s not healthy, plus I have work tomorrow,” he tried to reason. “Fiona will have my ass if I go to work hungover.” She already had kept a close eye on him ever since he burned his hand. Ian’s thumb made their way to his scars and he rubbed them, the rough texture of the scars tickling his thumb slightly.

“Then don’t drink, and have someone else’s ass,” Casey smirked, a smirk playing on his lips. Mandy laughed at Casey’s choice of words, which earns her a grin from him.

Ian’s mind went to the raven-haired boy and his plump lips that he kept licking. Ian thought of his tattooed fingers tangled in Ian’s fiery red locks, and dragged his hand down his face, trying to clear his head of all the filthy things that’s currently occupying it.

“Fuck it, I’ll go,” Ian decided.

 

***************

The music blared over the speakers in the bright room, surrounded by sweaty bodies, glitter and full chubs restrained in tight pants. Ian watched the men on the podium, dancing seductively and shaking their asses to the beat. He thought of when he was on the podium, coked out and dancing to men as old as Frank—if not, older.

Ian didn’t know why he agreed to come here; he just did. His mind was bombarded by unwelcome memories that he had managed to push down before, but they somehow crept back into his head as soon as he set foot in this place, as if they knew that Ian was going to come back here and was waiting with bated breath before reappearing.

Ian regretted working here. He was medicated and not as impulsive as he was before, and now he realized how fucking _stupid_ and dangerous it was to be drugged out and full of men who probably wouldn’t have let Ian not being in the right state of mind to consent stop them from getting what they want.

Thankfully, Ian was never taken advantage of.

“Tell me again why you worked here,” Casey said, bringing his lips to his weird concoction of a drink.

“I.. have no idea,” Ian answered truthfully. “Impulsiveness, I guess. Plus, I got laid here, which satisfied my insatiable horniness at the time.” Casey chuckled.

“What, men who were in denial of their gayness was your type?” Casey teased. Ian shook his head.

“Some of these know they’re gay, dipshit,” Ian corrected him. “Unlike you.”

“Jesus, I’m not gay,” Casey said. “I like both boys and girls.”

“You can’t like both boys and girls.”

“Bullshit.”

Ian scoffed, and looked around. Casey sniffed. “So you were a hustler here, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” Ian said, internally cringing at the memories. “I’m negative, man, don’t worry. Even though I was coked out and manic, I knew I had to be safe, or make sure the man I was fucking was negative.”

“A lot of dudes who are positive get off to giving negative dudes HIV or AIDs or some shit,” Casey said.

“No shit?”

“No shit.” Ian shook his head for the umpteenth time that night. His eyes swept the room, and landed on a man with a shirt that said NYC in block letters, his sandy blonde hair sweeping over his forehead, eyeing Casey.

“Nine o’ clock,” Ian said to Casey, who furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“It’s past nine PM, dumbass,” Casey said, giving Ian his “you fucking moron” face. Ian slapped his forehead with his palm lightly.

“Idiot, look to your left,” Ian said, and Casey met the man’s eyes, smirking.

“Hey, do you mind me blowing you off so I can blown by Surfer Dude over there?” Casey asked, taking another sip of his drink.

“Nope, go ahead,” Ian said. “I was going to leave anyways. This place brings back unwelcome memories.”

“Don’t like bein’ reminded of your hustler days, huh?” Casey teased, which earned him the middle finger from his friend. “See ya later, Riding Hood.”

“Yeah, you too,” Ian said, and pushed his way out of the hot room. He took two lungfuls of fresh air, the cold air hitting his face, relaxing him. He was glad to be out of the White Swallow. He didn’t _ever_ want to go back. Ever. That was a chapter in his life that he wanted to rip out and throw away.

He found himself in a cafe near Boystown, and walked in, the chimes connected to the door ringing softly as Ian pushed the door open. Soft pop music was playing over the speakers, but other than that it was quiet.

The cafe smelled of coffee and the warm air from the heater enveloped Ian. It wasn’t crowded at all; only four people were there, excluding Ian and the employees of the cafe. An old lady sat in the corner, indulged in the newspaper; a couple sat close to each other, hands intertwined and talking softly; and a man seated next to the window, watching the bleak streets outside and the streetlights slightly brightening the streets, absentmindedly brushing his tattooed knuckles against the side of his nose, or tapping his wedding band against his mug gently, the sound of the action mingling with the other gentle sounds in the cafe.

Ian ordered coffee and a donut as he sat a couple of tables away from the man. From where Ian was sitting, he could see the side of the man’s face; sapphire blue eyes taking in the view, skin pale and pink plump lips Ian was thinking of earlier.

It was the raven-haired man.

The man turned his head towards Ian, and scowled. “The fuck are you looking at?”

“Nothing, I..” Ian sighed. “You look familiar, that’s all.”

The man wasn’t scowling anymore; instead, a small smirk was playing on his lips, much to Ian’s surprise. “You’re that Ginger from that diner.. fuck, what was it called?”

“Patsy’s,” Ian informed him.

“Right,” he said, and faint laughter lines appeared on his face as the corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly. He waved at the empty chair in front of him, inviting Ian over. Ian didn’t need to be told twice.

He sat in front of the man, with his donut in his mouth and his cup of coffee in his hands. Both of them sipped and ate in silence—with the man staring out the window and Ian staring at him—until Ian decided to break the comfortable silence, clearing his throat. “I haven’t seen you around before. Did you move here recently?”

His sapphire eyes find Ian’s, and Ian gets blown away by how beautiful and bright they are. “I’ve been in South Side my whole life. I just never went to your diner before.”

Ian raises his eyebrows, surprised at this new information. “Your wife dragged you to Patsy’s?”

The man frowned slightly at that. “Not my wife.”

“You’re wearing your wedding band.” The man looked down at the band and tisked.

“Right. Um..” he brushed the pad of his thumb against the side of his nose, visibly trying to use the right choice of words. “It’s complicated,” he said with a shrug.

Ian nodded. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“Wasn’t going to.” His eyes landed on the pink, healing scars on Ian’s hand. “How’d you burn yourself?”

Ian looked at his right hand and hesitated. He wasn’t going to tell the man that he hurt himself. “Accidentally spilt hot water on my hand,” he lied lamely. By the look of the man’s raised eyebrows and his sapphire eyes searching Ian’s face, he didn’t seem to buy it, but he let it slide. Ian tried to change the subject. “This cafe is nice.” _Genius_ _._ Ian was usually good with holding conversations, but something about this man made Ian feel jumpy and nervous.

“Yeah, my sister showed me this place, like last week,” he said, a slight smile on his lips.

“Sister, huh?” Ian said dumbly, as he sipped on his own coffee.

“Yeah,” he said. “My only sister. I have older brothers that I don’t really give a shit about. Except for one.” Ian nodded, enjoying the company of the raven-haired man, even though their conversation wasn’t exciting. “How many siblings do you have?”

Ian chewed on his donut, and swallowed before answering. “Well.. I have five half-siblings on my mom’s side, and probably one on my dad’s side. I grew up with the siblings on my mom’s side, though.”

“Half-siblings, huh?” the man replied.

“Yeah,” Ian said, feeling himself grow more and more comfortable with the man by the minute. “My mom was married to my biological dad’s brother. She fucked my dad while being married to his brother.”

“Shit,” he chuckled. “What’d her husband do?”

“Nothin’,” Ian replied. “I think he was shocked that she cheated on him.”

“I’d beat the shit out of that fucker, brother or not,” he said. He opened his mouth to add more, but apparently decided against it and shut his mouth again. He cupped both hands around his mug, and noticed the redhead staring at his knuckle tattoos. He let go of the cup, and curled both his hands into fists before placing them side to side for Ian to read.

“Fuck u-up,” Ian read aloud. “Huh.”

“It was a stupid tattoo idea I had as a kid and now I can’t afford getting it removed,” he said and licked his lips before cupping his mug again and lifting it up to his lips.

“I have a dumb tattoo I got when I was more.. reckless, I guess,” Ian said, shrugging his shoulders.

“Yeah? What is it?” The man smirked, and licked his lips.

“Fuck no, I’m not saying,” Ian chuckled.

“I showed you mine,” he argued.

“I noticed it before you did show it to me,” Ian smirked. “Mine is in a less visible place.” He had regretted saying those words immediately after it escaped his lips, and the man’s smirk widened as he raised his eyebrows.

“You got a tramp stamp or somethin’, Ginger?” the man teased.

Ian laughed. “Fuck off, no I don’t.” The man’s smirk had widened into a smile and Ian had to smile back. His smile was gorgeous. He was gorgeous in general. _He_ _’_ _s fucking married and straight, Ian._

The two men chatted for a while, Ian losing track of the time. His sour mood had completely diminished, as he looked at his phone. “Shit. It’s late, man, I have to go. Work tomorrow.” If Ian hadn’t known better, the raven-haired man had almost frowned at Ian’s words. “Same place and time tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” the man smiled. “Yeah. I’ll see you later, Ginger.”

Ian grinned and got up. “See ya..” he frowned. “I’ll come up with a nickname.” And with that he left the cafe, a goofy smile on his lips.


	2. Chapter 2

“You’re pretty smiley today,” Fiona commented, noticing Ian’s cheerfulness. “I take it you’re over Andre?”

Ian didn’t know how to respond to that. He wasn’t over Andre, and whenever he thought of Andre his heart would ache. He wondered when it would stop hurting and when Andre wouldn’t be a big problem to him. He shrugged. “Made a new friend,” he decided to say.

“Like.. friend-friend, or rebound-friend?” Fiona asked.

“Friend-friend,” Ian clarified. “Jesus. I can have friends other than Casey and Mandy. Besides, I’m still in the ‘watching chick flicks while crying into my ice cream’ phase.” He smirked a bit to let Fiona know he was messing with her.  It was quite the contrary, actually; the raven-haired man had managed to make Ian go to sleep in a good mood and wake up in a good mood.

Fiona smiled. “Well, I like cheery Ian more than moody Ian.”

“I do, too,” Ian replied, and he heard chattering as people lazily rolled in. Soon enough, the diner was packed with people. From time to time, Ian would glance over at Andre’s booth. He couldn’t deny it; he missed Andre. As happy as he is, he missed the feeling of having Andre with him. Sleeping in his arms and waking up in his arms.

He wondered where Andre was, what Andre was doing. Was Andre with another man? A man that wasn’t mentally fucked up? Was there always a man that Andre had when they were together? Ian felt a pang of jealousy mixed with sadness and anger wash over him.

“Ay, earth to Riding Hood,” Casey had said, and Ian had noticed that he was standing in the middle of the diner, too wrapped up in his thoughts and emotions to notice. “I’m fuckin’ starving and hungover.”

“Hey,” Ian greeted, walking over to Casey and Mandy, letting Mandy grab his hand with both of her dainty hands. “How’d your night go?”

Casey cracked a smile. “Great, man. Dude can suck the soul outta you. Maybe I should hook you up with him.”

“Jesus, stop trying to get me laid,” Ian said. “I need time by myself. Heal, y’know?”

“You seemed pretty fucking healed when you were spacing out,” Mandy pointed out. “I want those chocolate chip waffles.”

“During lunch?” Casey said, raising an eyebrow.

“Fuck you, I’m my own person, I’ll eat whatever I want,” Mandy said, letting go of Ian’s hand to cross her arms over her chest.  “Whenever I want.” Ian jotted Mandy’s order down, and looked up at Casey.

“I’ll have the same thing.”

“Didn’t you give me shit for wanting waffles during lunch?” Mandy said, uncrossing her arms and raising her eyebrows slightly.

“I don’t recall,” Casey replied with a lazy smile.

“Coming right up,” Ian said, and walked away before he had to deal with their argument. As he took orders and gave people their food, his heart would swell up a tiny bit when he looked over at Andre’s booth, only for sadness to sink its claws deep inside Ian.

There goes his great mood.

 

***************

“Sit down, babe,” Mandy had said, moving over to make space for Ian on the booth. She had picked up on the sour mood Ian had, and had stomped on her annoyance to give sympathy towards her best friend.

It wasn’t fair that Ian had felt like shit about his illness. He was working hard on trying to get his life back on track; for Andre to ditch him out of the blue had really taken a toll on him. It wasn’t his fault that he was bipolar—besides, it wasn’t like he wasn’t medicated and trying any drug that was offered to him.

He had a job. A shit job, but it paid the bills.

As Mandy and Casey argued over something that was small and petty, he let his mind wander. He wondered why he, out of all of Monica’s kids, had to inherit this illness. Life would be so much easier if his personality wasn’t made up of pills, and his brain had fucking _worked_ properly.

“What do you think, Ian?” Mandy had said, interrupting his train of thought.

“Hm?” Ian asked.

Mandy sighed. “Never mind. What happened last night?”

“Riding Hood over here got flashbacks of sucking grandpa dick and had to leave,” Casey said, which earned him the finger from the redhead. “Nah, I had ditched him to get my dick sucked.”

“You’re a shit friend,” Mandy insulted.

“I’m a friend that usually thinks with his dick,” Casey defended.

“I met this dude in a cafe,” Ian said, “he was nice. Kinda intimidating, but nice enough when you get to know him.”

“Was the dude cute?” Mandy grinned.

Ian shrugged. He was more than just cute. His skin was pale and glowing, and his sapphire eyes were bright and blue, easy to get lost in. He had dark eyebrows and dark hair, which was swept over to the side, and a smile that shined brighter than any of the lights in Chicago. He was married, and Ian was done with being someone’s side bitch. “Sure,” he answered vaguely.

“Seems like a great guy, man,” Casey said.

“I met him, like, twice,” Ian said. “And he’s married, so he’s off the table.”

“Thought you didn’t care about your men being married,” Mandy said.

“I do now.” He furrowed his eyebrows. “Break’s over. I’ll talk to you guys later.”

 

***************

He stepped out onto the crisp air, the smell of urine and garbage hitting his nostrils. He sighed and walked over to the L, trying to untangle his jumbled up thoughts.

As he walked in the L, his fingers gently tapping his thigh, he thought of things he was sure of; he still wasn’t over Andre (obviously) and he was attracted to a man whose name he didn’t know. He probably didn’t like men, because he had a wife and a child. But Ian’s met many married men that had liked dick, and had paid men to fuck them.

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he got off the L. He just was thinking with his dick; he’s going to get over the man. He was going to meet another man that he was attracted to—who also liked him—and he’d fuck him. Or, maybe start a relationship. He didn’t know, it was way too early to think about relationships.

Besides, he didn’t want to date at the moment. No one had the time or energy to deal with him; no one ever did.

He felt like he was an outcast; a black sheep in his family. Being the middle child in his family, he was he was used to getting looked over. All his life he didn’t think he belonged with the chaotic way of the Gallaghers.

Was he comfortable with the chaos? Sure. As strange as it may seem, chaos was normal to him. The Gallagher house was always buzzing with people, never a dull moment there, and with people who couldn’t keep their thoughts and emotions to themselves to save their lives, Ian was used to it.

Andre made Ian feel like he belonged to something, like someone actually gave a shit about him. Andre didn’t immediately relate him to Monica whenever he did something impulsive; no, he stood by Ian. Ian had thought that with Andre, he could take on any obstacle. Until Andre left, that is.

Now Ian feels lost, an outcast again. He was just the background noise of a busy environment, and he had thought he had gotten used to it, but after being someone’s number one priority, it was hard to readjust back to being the background noise.

He had walked into the same cafe that he was in the night before, desperate to get some peace and quiet, only to make a companion at the end of the day. His eyes swept the area for the familiar black hair and blue eyes that had imprinted themselves into his head.

He had sat down on the big, brown, leather couch, letting his head lean back onto the headrest for a minute, before lifting his head and eyeing the environment.

The brown marble floor reflected the lightbulbs decorated around the area, while 10 leather couches were seated around small, chocolate brown coffee tables. The caramel wooden chairs and tables were placed between the leather couches. The smell of freshly ground coffee hung in the air, relaxing Ian as his sadness and pain slowly ebbed away.

“Havin’ fun, Ginger?” a voice had said. Ian looked up at the man standing in front of him and grinned.

“Yeah, I just befriended this couch,” Ian said. “Nice guy. His name’s Stan. Has two kids, a girl and a boy. Wants to be an architect.”

“Can’t believe you replaced him with me,” the man had said, with fake hurt, as he plopped down on the leather couch next to Ian’s. “Oh shit, that’s comfy.” He let his head roll back onto the headrest, and his eyes closed. Ian stared at him; the small satisfied smile playing on his lips, his expression content and relaxed.

“I know,” Ian said. Both men stayed quiet for a while, enjoying the comfort of the couches and their silence that hung above them. “Man, I needed to relax in a couch like this.”

“Tell me about it,” the man replied. “Hey, have you thought of a nickname for me?”

“Wouldn’t you rather me know your actual name?” Ian asked.

“Nah. Nicknames are better,” the man had replied. “So? What will I go by?” Ian lifted his head to look at the other man, the raven-haired man turning his head so his cheek was resting on the leather.

“Blue,” Ian decided.

“Blue?”

“Yeah. Cause of your eyes,” Ian said, shrugging.

“That’s gay and unoriginal,” Blue teased.

“So is Ginger,” Ian pointed out.

“Touché.” Blue lifted his head and looked up at the cashier. “I’m starving, you want anything?”

“Hot chocolate and a donut,” Ian answered, getting an eye roll from Blue. “What? That shit helps me unwind after a long day. And I’ve had a long couple of days. You’ll probably have to drown me in hot chocolate by the end of the week.”

“But.. hot chocolate?” Blue asked.

“Yeah,” Ian said. “Decided to shake things up.”

“You risk junkie, you,” Blue teased before walking to the cashier, getting their orders. Truth was, caffeine messes with his meds, and Ian learned that the hard way last night. But Ian wasn’t going to go through his mental illness history with Blue; if bipolar scared Andre off, it was going to scare Blue off.

Ian watched Blue come back and set their food and drinks on the coffee table before plopping back down on the couch. “Tell me about your long couple of days, and I’ll tell you why I was late.”

“Why do you wanna know?” Ian asked.

“Isn’t that what friends do?” Blue sniffed, before brushing the side of his nose with his knuckles. “I’m kinda new with this friend thing, so please, correct me if I’m wrong.”

“We’re friends?” 

“Are we not? Or are we acquaintances?” Blue asked, raising his eyebrows quizzically. Ian liked the way he raised his eyebrows. It made the arch of his eyebrows more prominent.

“Nah, we gave each other nicknames,” Ian said, “the next step is friendship bracelets.” He smirked, which made Blue grin.

“Noted,” Blue said. “Seriously though, friends tell each other shit, right? Like.. about their days.”

“Sure,” Ian replied, nodding. “Well.. I just got out of a relationship.” Blue gnawed on his lower lip, apparently at a loss for words.

“Shit,” he finally chose to say. “When?”

“Yesterday,” Ian said.

“No fuckin’ wonder,” Blue said. “I’ve never been in a relationship.” He shrugged and blew on his coffee before tentatively sipping on it. Ian stared at him, confused.

“But.. but you’re married,” Ian said. “Married people are in a relationship before they get, you know.. hitched.” Blue nodded, swallowing his mouthful of coffee.

“My dad forced me to marry her,” Blue replied. “She was a Russian hand whore, and my dad..” he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly. “Let’s say I did something that pissed him the fuck off, and he made me marry Svetlana.” Ian furrowed his eyebrows.

“Shit,” Ian muttered. “So.. you’ve never been in a relationship?”

“Nope. Don’t plan on bein’ in one,” Blue answered truthfully. “Don’t think I’ll like someone that much that I’ll want to fuck them and _only_ them. Besides, my other brothers and sister have been in relationships, and it seems like a waste of time and effort. Then again, they’ve never really had great taste in people.”

“So, you don’t want to be tied down, and you think it’s a waste effort and time?” Ian asked, taking a sip of his hot chocolate. “And you think you won’t like someone so much to stay committed to them?”

“That’s what I just said, Ginger,” Blue said.

“I know, Blue,” Ian said. “Long day. Cut me some slack.” Blue nodded, and started lightly tapping on his mug with his wedding band. Ian watched him while taking another sip of hot chocolate, the hot, sweet liquid filling him up with warmth.

Or maybe it was the presence of Blue.

Either way, Ian felt warmth engulf his body, and it felt nice. “Relationships have plus sides, you know,” he said quietly.

“Yeah?” Blue snorted. “Like what?”

Ian chewed on his donut to give him time to create sentences in his head before letting them escape his lips. “Like feeling wanted,” Ian said when he swallowed. “Loved, even. Yeah, being single has its perks, but knowing that someone wants you and only you, and just more for your body, is fuckin’ great.”

“It’s fuckin’ gay,” Blue said. “That’s what it is. I’m a.. cum and go kinda guy.” Blue grinned at his choice of words, which earned him a chuckle from Ian.

“Ejaculate and evacuate, in other words,” Ian smirked.

“Yeah, exactly. You get me, Ginger,” Blue teased.

“Friends understand each other,” Ian replied. “Especially BFFs like us.”

“Fuck off,” Blue chuckled. Ian leaned back and watched the other man run his tattooed fingers through his hair, and decided that he really, really liked Blue. He didn’t care if Blue wasn’t anything more than a friend to Ian; Ian just wanted Blue in his life.

“So.. your wife’s a hand whore, huh?” Ian said. “Your dad sure knows how to pick ‘em.” He was relieved when he got another laugh from Blue.

“She was a hand whore,” Blue said. “And then I became a pimp. Well, co-pimp.”

“Co-pimp?” Ian raised his eyebrows. “Who had the pleasure of being the other pimp?”

“Kev? Y’know, the dude who owns the Alibi Room,” Blue explained, while biting into his food.

“Kev lived next door to us,” Ian stated. Blue raised his eyebrows once before lowering them, while taking a break from talking by chewing.

“Yeah, well, the cops found out about us prostituting a bunch of Russian whores, and arrested the girls. So we had to close the Rub and Tug,” Blue said. Ian laughed. “What?”

“’Rub and Tug,’” Ian replied. “Whose idea was it to name it that that? Cause that’s kinda clever.”

“I’d like to say it was mine, but I don’t remember,” Blue answered.

Ian cupped his mug of hot chocolate, his sour mood diminishing yet again. “When was this?”

“Over a year ago,” Blue answered. “Before I had my son.”

“Oh. I wasn’t here around that time,” Ian replied. “I had.. enlisted in the Army a little over a year ago.” Blue nodded.

“Shoot a couple of towelheads?” Blue asked.

“Nah, I never left basic,” Ian answered. “Shit hit the fuckin’ fan, and I split.” He shrugged, trying to keep it as vague as possible. He did not want to go into detail about how he tried to steal a helicopter, then went AWOL and started working at a gay strip club. Blue was just warming up to him, he didn’t want to scare Blue away.

_He_ _’_ _s gonna leave,_ a small voice reminded Ian. _He_ _’_ _s gonna find out who you are and what you did, and split. That_ _’_ _s what everyone does. They leave. Blue_ _’_ _s no different._

His stomach tied in knots while Blue had chatted about why he was late, trying to ignore the small, pessimistic voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how'd you guys like the dialogue between ian and mickey?
> 
> also, i find the nickname ian gave mickey fucking CUTE. comment on how you feel about the nickname.
> 
> also (cause i'm extra af) i'm gonna be posting both my fanfics in alternate days. i updated UT today and i'm gonna update R tomorrow, and then UT after that day, etc.
> 
> until next time,
> 
> \- Rain1838


	3. Chapter 3

Ian had walked the familiar path to the small cafe while the sky hung over the city of Chicago like a dark blanket. His breath had come out in white puffs, as his face was exposed to the cold air. He saw a figure in front of the cafe, cigarette between his lips, and smiled.

Blue’s bright eyes made their way towards the redhead, and he smiled slightly. “Ginger,” he greeted, throwing the butt to the ground and stomping on it to put it out.

“Blue,” Ian said back, as both the men walked in.

“Fuck, I hate the cold weather,” Blue commented as he followed Ian inside, his pale cheeks red from the cold. Ian felt the uncomfortable sting on his face as they transitioned from cold air to warm air, and shrugged off his coat. Blue took his coat off as well, wearing a beige button down shirt that hugged his body perfectly, and Ian couldn’t help but stare. He reluctantly tore his eyes away from Blue’s body as Blue spoke. “It’s been a week since you got out of your relationship.”

Ian found it sweet that Blue remembered. “How’d you remember that?”

“Because,” Blue said with a smile, “it’s also a week since we started talkin’.” Ian smiled and nodded.

“So, what do you have planned for our one week anniversary?” Ian teased, raising an eyebrow. Blue grinned and dragged his tongue across his lower lip before biting it.

“Was plannin’ on going to Paris,” Blue joked. “Go visit the Eiffel Tower.”

“Romantic,” Ian commented, earning a laugh from the shorter man. “Since you’re spending so much on our date on the Eiffel Tower, our drinks and food is on me.”

“You’re generous, Ginger,” Blue commented.

“I try my best.” Ian walked over to the cashier. For a week, Blue and Ian have been meeting up at night at the cafe, talking about anything and everything. Sometimes they would just sit in silence, enjoying each other’s company. Sometimes Blue would moan about Svetlana and his kid—whose name is Yevgeny, Ian learned later on—while Ian would listen. Sometimes Ian would complain about Fiona and everything else he could complain about, which is a lot. Blue would listen, hang onto every word like his life depended on it, and add his little comments which would make Ian smile.

“Coffee, chocolate donut, hot chocolate and a Danish, please,” Ian said to the cashier, taking his wallet out. That was their food and drinks while they chatted. Ian had started to look forward to their daily meetings, where they wouldn’t run out of things to say. The breakup with Andre was easier to deal with now that Blue was here to distract him from his thoughts.

And for the first time in a long, long time, Ian felt consistent emotions. He had a reason to wake up again, and a reason to go through the day again; so he could see Blue. A small voice in the back of his throat kept reminding him that things aren’t going to last and that Blue will leave him.

“Thanks,” Ian said as he grabbed their order and the change. He made his way over to the leather couch, Blue’s raven hair peeking out from under the brown object. He placed their order on the tiny coffee table placed in front of them. “Got you your Danish and coffee.”

“You know me so well, Ginger,” Blue teased, as he lifted the coffee mug into his hands.

“Like the back of my hand,” Ian joked. Blue grinned, crinkles appearing around his eyes, before blowing on the coffee.

“Still don’t know why you prefer hot chocolate over coffee,” Blue said, after swallowing a mouthful of coffee.

“I’m one of the few people that don’t like bitter shit going in my mouth,” Ian said. He still didn’t tell Blue about his bipolar disorder. He wasn’t planning on telling Blue anytime soon. As much Ian liked Blue—romantically or platonically, Ian didn’t know—he didn’t trust Blue 100%. 

“So you like ‘em sweet, huh?” Blue asked.

“Pretty much,” Ian said. “I like the sugar rush.”

“Jesus, it’s like I’m talking to an eight year old,” Blue joked, rolling his sapphire eyes.

“I’m not eight!” Ian said, feigning offense to Blue’s words. “I’m eight _and a half,_ get it right.” Blue laughed.

“You’re gonna be a man soon,” Blue joked, and placed his mug on the coffee table and leaned forward. “Do you know what that means?”

“Yeah, makin’ babies,” Ian said, laughing.

“Do you want kids?” Blue asked before grabbing his mug and leaning back again, his tone serious

“Now?” Ian asked, as he tentatively sipped on his hot chocolate, not wanting to burn his tongue.

“No, later in life,” Blue clarified.

Ian paused, while licking his lips. “Maybe,” he decided to say, “depends.” Blue raised his eyebrows, obviously not pleased by the vague answer that Ian gave him. “I mean, I don’t think I’ll ever have kids in the future.”

“Why’s that?” Blue asked. “You think they’re noisy little fuckers, like I do?”

“That too,” Ian said, wondering how Blue would take it if he came out to him. Would Blue be bothered by it? Would he not want to hang out with Ian anymore? Was he homophobic? His mind was bombarded by thoughts about how negatively Blue might take it.

“Too?” Blue asked. “What’s the other reason?”

Ian sighed. “Promise that you won’t freak out?”

“I’ll freak out when I go home,” Blue teased, which made Ian furrow his eyebrows. “Kidding, I’m kidding. I won’t freak out. Can’t reproduce?”

Ian shook his head. “No, I’m pretty sure my sperm is workin’ properly.”

“You’re gay?” he guessed again. Ian stayed quiet, silently confirming Blue’s guess, and sipped on his hot chocolate, not wanting to meet Blue’s eyes. However, his eyes made their way to the other man’s face. Blue had an unreadable expression on his face before shrugging, trying to seem nonchalant about it.

“You’re freaked out by it, aren’t you?” Ian said, and his heart raced in nervousness as Blue stayed quiet. “Fuck, I shouldn’t have said anything.” He got up and grabbed his coat.

“Whoa, wait, where are you going?” Blue said, looking up at Ian.

“Home,” Ian replied. “Nice meeting you.”

“Ginger,” Blue said, his voice serious. “I don’t care if you like dick.” Ian paused, and turned to the other man.

“What?” Ian asked, at a loss for words. Relief washed over him as Blue nodded.

“We like what we like,” Blue shrugged. “Doesn’t change us in any way. You’re still the goofball with red hair that I knew before you said you were gay. Except, now that I know you’re gay. No biggie.”

_Thank fuck._ He sat back down. “I’m not a goofball.”

“Yes you are,” Blue said. “But you’re fun to hang out with, so..” he shrugged again, tapping his wedding band against his mug again, a tick that Ian had gotten used to quickly. Ian stared at the wedding band, the urge of wanting to know whether Blue was gay or not bubbling in his stomach, the question on the tip of his tongue.

But Ian held it in and sipped his drink in silence, while Blue sipped his. As soon as they had finished drinking, Ian had gotten up.

“Let’s go somewhere else.”

 

***************

“Why the fuck did you take me to the high school bleachers, Ginger?” Blue questioned, one eyebrow raised, while Ian sat down on the cold metal of the bleachers. He was pretty sure he was gonna have frostbites on his ass.

“Change of scene,” Ian replied.

“I would rather the change of scene be warm and inside,” Blue said, his hand on the metal fence that separated the bleachers from the mat. “I used to be in the baseball team.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Blue smirked. “But then they kicked me off the team.”

“Why?”

“Pissed on the first base,” Blue replied with a shrug of his shoulders, while Ian laughed and shook his head. “I was a horrible child. Fuck, I hope Yevgeny doesn’t end up like I was, cause I won’t deal with that bullshit. At all.” He tipped the bottle of liquor both Blue and Ian bought at the liquor store. After he swallowed a mouthful of the liquor, he turned to Ian. “Tell me about your childhood.”

“My childhood?” Ian asked.

“That’s what I said, dipshit,” Blue said, no malice in his tone whatsoever, and smirked when Ian flipped him off. “I wanna know what Ginger was like as a kid.”

“Well, Ginger was quiet,” Ian started. “Kept to himself. And Ginger was bullied for his freckles and curly hair.”

“Freckles and curly hair?” Blue asked, eyebrows screwed in confusion. “You barely have freckles. And your hair is straight. Probably the only straight thing on you.” He laughed, and Ian flipped him off again, not being able to suppress his own laugh.

“As a kid, I had a shit ton of freckles. And really curly hair,” Ian said, taking a sip of his own liquor. “Freckles go away with age. And my hair just.. turned straight.” He shrugged and gave Blue a pointed look. “If you say another gay joke—”

“I won’t, Tough Guy,” Blue said, his hands up in surrender. “Freckles go away with age?”

“Yup.” Ian took another swig.

“That’s.. fuckin’ horrible.” He sat down beside Ian, their shoulders touching. He finished his liquor. “Freckles give you a little quirk, y’know? You were different from other people, and now you’re barefaced and normal, which is fucking boring to me.”

“Where the fuck were you when I felt insecure about my freckles?” Ian asked, as Blue shrugged, and took out his cigarette pack and offered one of the sticks to Ian. Ian took it and leaned in when Blue went to light the stick, Blue’s hands millimetres away from Ian’s face.

“Probably in juvie,” Blue answered honestly, and took another cig after lighting Ian’s successfully, putting it in his own mouth and lighting it, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Ian couldn’t help but stare at the raven-haired man, as Blue lit it up, and turned his head when Blue looked up, taking another hit.

Ian was suddenly aware how close they were. They were never this close in the cafe. The big leather couches separated the both of them, so even they were beside each other they weren’t touching—like the way they are now.

Ian liked how Blue’s shoulder radiated a warmth in him. A warmth that he had to stomp out—because he just _couldn_ _’_ _t_ like a married man who was possibly straight—but a warmth nonetheless. “Why’d you go to juvie?”

“Uh..  robbery. And then I assaulted a cop,” Blue muttered around his cigarette. Ian raised his eyebrows.

“No shit?” Ian asked around his cigarette.

“No shit.”

“What did you rob?” Ian asked.

“The, uh.. Towelhead’s store,” Blue said vaguely, turning his head to look at Ian. “Y’know, the Kash and Grab.”

“No way,” Ian said, “I worked there. When I was 15 or 16.”

“No shit?” It was Blue’s turn to say.

“No shit. I never heard about you,” Ian said.

“You do know my actual name isn’t Blue, right?” Blue smirked. Ian ignored his smartass comment.

“Kash never said that a teenage kid robbed us. I knew we were robbed, but he didn’t say who it was.”  Ian shrugged. “I thought it was Terry Milkovich or somethin’.” Blue’s muscles tensed at the name. Ian didn’t think of it much—Terry was scary, and it wasn’t out of the norm that Blue would be scared of him as well. Ian decided to change the subject, not liking how tense the atmosphere between them was. “You were a handful.”

Blue let out a snort. “Hell yeah I was.” He absentmindedly brushed the pad of his thumb against the side of his nose.

“Sorry for.. bringing Terry up,” Ian mumbled.

“It’s alright, Ginger,” Blue said. “Terry brings back shit I don’t want to remember.” Ian let out a snort. He had a shit ton of stuff he didn’t want to remember as well. Blue looked at him quizzically. “What?”

“Nothin’,” Ian replied.

“Tell me,” Blue said. He slightly shoved Ian with his shoulder. “Tell me,” he repeated.

“I have shit that I don’t want to remember, too,” Ian said with a shrug.

“Who doesn’t?” Blue replied. Silence hung between them as both men smoked. Ian liked the comfortable silence. He liked how he didn’t have to try to talk to Blue to make things less awkward. They could be in silence, consumed in their own thoughts, yet be enjoying each other’s company.

A buzzing interrupted their silence as Blue took his phone out, and sucked his teeth slightly at the text. “Hey, tell me about the shit you don’t want to remember tomorrow.”

Ian chuckled. “Rather not.”

“You don’t have a say in this,” Blue replied, smiling warmly at Ian. Ian shook his head and turned his back to walk home, when he heard Blue call him again. “Hey, Ginger?”

Ian turned around to look at him. “Yeah?”

Blue hesitated, and then gave Ian a closed-mouth smile. “So am I.”

And with that, Blue walked away, leaving Ian confused as fuck about what he was talking about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk, it's kinda obvious what "blue" was talking about when he said "so am i."
> 
> am i the only one?
> 
> probably am.
> 
> anyways, thank you for all the kudoses/kudi/whatever the fuck the plural of "kudos" is, and the subscriptions! y'all are awesome.
> 
> until next time,
> 
> \- Rain1838


	4. Chapter 4

_So am I._

Ian had pondered what it had meant for the past couple of weeks. He felt like the answer was so close, yet so far away. He felt annoyed at himself for not being able to have the goddamn balls to ask Blue what those three words meant. What was he?

 “Ian,” Fiona said, “are you okay? You kinda seem.. out of it.” Her eyebrows were furrowed in worry as her brown eyes bore into Ian’s. _Can I not be occupied by something else without people worrying about me?_ He swallowed his frustration and plastered on a smile while nodding.

“Yeah,” he said, “just got a lot on my mind.” Fiona just looked even more worried and he sighed, grabbing her shoulders. “I’m fine. Really.” That wasn’t a lie. He _was_ fine. He wasn’t numb, and his smile was genuine. Andre didn’t occupy his thoughts as much as he used to. But whenever he did, annoyance would fill him up. Yeah, Ian was a handful but Andre should’ve had the balls to tell Ian that he couldn’t handle Ian’s mental illness, rather than leave a fucking note.

Fiona touched Ian’s cheek in a sisterly way. “How do you feel about Andre, and.. everything that’s happened?” Ian rolled his eyes.

“He can go fuck himself,” Ian said, hoping that Fiona could leave him alone. Fiona grinned and left to do her job. His eyes swept over the area, and landed on the same raven-hair and sapphire eyes. Blue didn’t seem content, however; a scowl was on his face and Ian had an urge to kiss it off, make him smile again.

_He_ _’_ _s your friend,_ a voice reminded him for the umpteenth time, _besides, he_ _’_ _ll leave you anyways._ His bones felt like lead was injected into them, as he trudged to Blue’s table, a pair of hard green eyes and another pair of bright, sapphire eyes filled with happiness looking up at him. Blue had looked beautiful, with his coat placed on his lap and his hands clasped onto the table. “What will you be having?” Ian said, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from the steady gaze.

He could still feel those sapphire eyes burning into his head, as if Blue could read his mind. An irrational fear filled him up—does he know what Ian feels for him? What would he do if he did? Would he stop talking to Ian?

“Grilled cheese,” the woman—Svetlana, Ian assumed—said in a thick Russian accent. Her eyes snapped back to her husband, noticing the happiness and admiration that he held in his eyes when he looked at the redhead. The redhead made him smile; something he never does around anyone else.

“And you?” Ian said, turning back to his crush after jotting Svetlana’s order in his little notepad. Blue’s smile widened—if that was even possible—as he sat up.

“I’ll have the same thing,” Blue said, his fingers slightly drumming on the table. Ian nodded and smiled, walking away.

“Who was he?” Ian heard Svetlana ask, and he could imagine Blue rolling his eyes.

“Just a friend,” Blue answered vaguely. There was an edge in his voice, and when Ian glanced back at the pair, Blue had an unreadable expression on his face, looking at anything but his wife. Sadness washed over Ian; was Ian really just a friend? He sighed, shaking his head. Of course he fucking was, they haven’t done anything that would deem them more than friends.

But that didn’t help ebb away the pain Ian felt. He knew that feeling this way was nonsensical—they _were_ friends. But he wanted to be more, so fucking badly. It consumed him, and occupied his thoughts. He wanted Blue to be his, and he knew it wasn’t because he wanted a rebound.

The woman muttered in what Ian assumed to be Russian while Blue scowled at her. “Speak fucking English,” he grumbled, as Ian placed their plates in front of them. “Thanks.” Blue didn’t look up to meet Ian’s eyes.

Ian left the quarrelling couple, trying to stifle his confusing feelings and his sadness, wanting to do his job properly so Fiona can get off his fucking back for once.

 

**************

****

Blue stayed at Pasty’s long after Svetlana left, until the sun dipped back under the horizon, and the clear sky was darkened to a jet black, hanging over the city of Chicago.  He didn’t order anything else; just sat there and watched the redhead when Ian wasn’t looking.

Ian sat across from him when his shift was over. “You stalking me at my workplace now, Blue?” he raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. Blue smiled for the first time in hours, and Ian’s heart fluttered inside his chest.

“Guess so,” Blue said, leaning back and crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“That’s fuckin’ creepy.”

“Eh, I’ve heard of weirder shit goin’ on in this world.” Blue shrugged. Ian couldn’t help but realize that Blue had seemed off; more consumed in his thoughts, less smiley. Ian hated it.

“Is everything alright?” Ian asked, worry evident in his face.

“Yeah,” Blue said, “yeah, just.. my wife’s bein’ a bitch.” He gnawed on his lower lip before touching his eyebrow with the pad of his thumb, his sapphire eyes trained on the window. Ian couldn’t help but remember the first day they were talking—Ian wanting to forget about his life for a while whereas Blue had seemed to reflect on his own.

Both men sat in silence; Blue looking out the window while Ian was looking at Blue, wondering how the fuck he’ll get over this man.

“So your name’s Ian, huh?” Blue said after a while, shifting his gaze back to the redhead in front of him. Ian furrowed his eyebrows for a minute, wondering how the fuck Blue knew his name, until he realized that Blue probably overheard Ian say “hi, my name’s Ian and I’ll be your server today” over and over and _over_ again.

“Last time I checked,” Ian said. “Ian Gallagher.”

“Figured,” Blue said, and leaned in as if he was going to tell Ian a huge secret. Ian leaned in as well. “My name’s Mickey.”

“As in, Milkovich?” Ian asked.

“Yup,” Blue said.

“Mandy’s my best friend,” Ian said, “well, one of my best friends.”

“Yeah well, you can call Mandy by her name,” Blue said, “but I prefer the nickname you gave me.”

“You don’t think it’s gay and unoriginal anymore?” Blue chuckled and leaned back again.

“No, I still do,” Blue clarified, “but I got used to it. I’ll still call you ‘Ginger’.”

“We’re BFFs,” Ian teased, “we call each other by our gay, unoriginal nicknames.” Blue laughed.

“Stop with the ‘BFF’ shit.”

Ian feigned sadness, as he put a hand on his chest, where his heart is. “Are we not BFFs?”

Blue laughed again. “Fuck off. Ay, wanna go to the cafe?”

Ian grinned. “’Course I do.”

 

***************

“So, you were a male prostitute?” Blue asked, his mouth full of Danish. Ian nodded, and leaned back on the comfortable couch.

“Usually would fuck old men,” Ian said.

“Did they need Viagra to get it up?” Blue teased.

“Yeah, actually,” Ian joked, as he sipped his hot chocolate.

“Goddamn, Ginger,” Blue said after swallowing. Ian’s stomach did flips, wondering if Blue judged him. He turned his head to a painting, too ashamed to stare into those sapphire eyes. “Hey,” Blue said. Ian didn’t look back at Blue.  “Hey,” Blue repeated, and leaned over and grabbed Ian’s wrist, his hand feeling warm against the bare skin. That caught Ian’s attention. He felt electricity from his head to his tip toes, as he turned his head to look at Blue’s bright eyes again. “I don’t judge you.”

Both men held each other’s gazes, Blue not wanting to let go of the redhead, and Ian wanting to grab Blue’s face and kiss him. But the moment passed as Blue took his hand away, cleared his throat, and grabbed his mug from the table.

“Anyways, uh..” Ian scratched at his cheek absentmindedly, “I quit after a while. And my sister got me a job at Patsy’s. And here I am.”

“Here you are,” Blue echoed, “people could create a show out of that.”

“Yeah?” Ian grinned.

“Fuck yeah.”

“Who would play me?” Ian asked, raising his eyebrows. Blue licked his lips, deep in thought, before opening his mouth to speak.

“He would have to be a redhead,” Blue said, “and the only redheads I know are Ed Sheeran and Danny Bonaduce.”

Ian laughed. “Yeah, cause I look like either one of them.”

“You kiddin’?” Blue asked, raising his eyebrows, “Bonaduce is the spitting image of you.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm, as his smirk widened into a grin. “But then again.. there’s Debby Ryan.”

“Debby Ryan’s a girl,” Ian said.

“No shit,” Blue replied, “you’d just have to be a lesbian, I guess.”

“That would get _a lot_ of straight male viewers,” Ian joked.

“Depends on how much fucking she’d have to do,” Blue shrugged. Beside them, a middle aged woman had stared at both of them, eyebrows raised, probably questioning what the fuck Blue and Ian were on. “You’d watch it as well, don’t give us that look.” Ian swatted at Blue’s arm, grinning.

“Shut up,” Ian said.

“What?” Blue asked. “It’s true.”

“The fuck it is,” Ian argued. “What would it be called?”

Blue hummed in reply. “‘The Story of Ginger’?”

“You’d be in it as well.”

“Then.. ‘The Story of Blue and Ginger’,” Mickey grinned, obviously pleased with the name. “Who would play me?”

“Matt LeBlanc? Like.. back when he was on Friends.”

“You only say that because Matt had black hair back then,” Blue argued.

“Mhm,” Ian replied. “I’m still a dude in this show, cause you get to be one. And I choose Ed Sheeran.” He rubbed his red palms together. “Who’d be the director? I vote Christopher Nolan.”

“Yeah, I’m not adding anyone else as an option cause Christopher Nolan is fuckin’ amazing at what he does,” Blue said.

“Christopher Nolan it is.” Ian took another bite of his donut.

“In all honesty, it’s really hard to wrap my head around the fact that you were a hustler,” Blue said, “and a gay stripper.”

“Yeah, I used to like bein’ a hustler and a stripper,” Ian said, “I was a really fuckin’ horny 17 year old. And men would pay me to fuck ‘em. It was a win-win situation for me; I got to do what I like best—fucking.” He sipped his hot chocolate, the hot liquid warming up his gullet.

“Have you ever thought of.. settlin’ down? Gettin’ married to a man?” Blue asked out of the.. well, blue. “Not now, but in the future.”

“Yeah,” Ian said. “I mean.. isn’t it everyone’s goal, to marry the love of their lives?”

“Yeah,” Blue said, and toyed with his wedding ring, “yeah, it is.” Ian felt guilt wash over him. It was evident that he didn’t love Svetlana, and Svetlana didn’t love him; they were dysfunctional. And Blue’s hitched, so unless he divorced Svetlana—which, Ian guessed, wouldn’t ever happen—he won’t ever get to marry someone he actually does want to marry.

“Ay,” Ian said, reaching over and giving Blue’s wrist a slight squeeze before letting go, “you’ll find someone who’ll love you.”

Blue laughed bitterly. “Milkoviches don’t have anyone that loves them, Ginger. Learned that a long fuckin’ time ago.”

“You will,” Ian said, sincerely, holding Blue’s gaze. “Trust me.” Blue’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down.

“Yeah, this shit is gettin’ gay,” Blue said with a weak laugh, and Ian smiled in response. Mickey fucking hoped that Ginger didn’t hear his heart racing under his chest, or realize how he longed for Ginger’s touch. He wondered what the fuck was happening to him.

Both men kept their developing feelings under the surface, hidden from the other man, as they talked as long as they could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i.. i honestly don't know exactly how they got to talking about a show. i was tired as fuck but ya.
> 
> anyways, would young matt leblanc make a good blue? no? yeah, thought so.
> 
> ALSO i've changed my username LMAO.
> 
> until next time, 
> 
> \- Gaylagher


	5. Chapter 5

“Where’s the dip?” Casey asked, while Ian and Mandy pulled out bowls from cabinets, dumping chips and popcorn in them.

It was Saturday night, or in other words, Movie Night. It was Mandy’s idea, and Casey and Ian went along with it because Mandy was a stubborn fuck who would stop at nothing to get her way.

“Didn’t have time,” Ian shrugged, “I’ll get it the next time.” He heard his phone _ding_ and craned his head to look at who texted him. It was Blue.

 _Saw a weirdo drinking hot chocolate and thought of you,_ the text had said. Ian’s heart swelled; Blue was thinking of him. The muscles in his face involuntarily pulled the corners of his mouth up as he racked his brain for a clever and witty reply, but didn’t seem too weird.

 _You thought of me?_ Oh yeah, clever and witty responses were Ian’s forte. Obviously.

“Who you textin’?” Mandy asked, peering over his shoulder and looking at the contact name. “Who the fuck’s ‘Blue’?”

“His crush,” Casey said with a mouth full of popcorn.

“He’s not my crush,” Ian denied, even though both Casey and Ian knew that it was quite the contrary, “he’s just a friend.”

“Yeah, a friend who’s dick you wanna suck,” Casey said matter-of-factly, getting hit with a couch cushion by his friend.

 _No, unfortunately. You_ _’_ _re the only Ginger that drinks hot chocolate,_ Blue texted back.

Ian settled in on the couch while Mandy and Casey argued over what movie to watch. As usual, he tuned them out as his mind wandered to sapphire eyes and raven hair.

 

***************

Ian didn’t know what possessed him when he told Mickey to come over to his place. He missed Blue, no doubt; a dull ache would settle itself in his chest and he found himself asking Blue to come by.

So, here he was, refilling bowls with food and brewing coffee for Blue, while hiding anything that might be embarrassing. Gay porn magazines, crumpled up tissue papers piled up in a trash can he had in the corner of his room, weird shit he still held onto that Blue can make fun of—that kind of stuff.

By the time Blue had come over, Yevgeny in his arms, the place was sparkling clean, and not exposing any embarrassing shit Blue can get his hands on. “Nice place,” Blue complimented, as Yevgeny babbled in his arms.

“Thanks,” Ian said, “cute kid.”

“Aren’t all kids cute?” Blue asked.

“Guess so,” Ian said, and held Yevgeny for Blue while Blue took his coat off, revealing a grey sweater that was zipped up to his chest, “What’d you get me?” He nodded at the bag at his hand.

“Chocolate donut, Ginger,” Blue grinned.

“You’re generous,” Ian smiled. “Nice hoodie.”

“You’re just gonna stand there and compliment me, Ginger?” Blue asked, raising an eyebrow as he took Yevgeny back.

“No,” Ian said, “I’m gonna suggest sittin’ down as well.”

“Host of the Year,” Blue joked, which made Ian grin. He sat down.

 “Fuck off.” Ian shook his head and chuckled.

“Nah, don’t want to,” Blue replied, grinning from ear to ear.

Ian stared at Blue, not sure how to answer that. Both men held each other’s gazes, so many words on the tips of their tongues but not knowing how to force them out of their mouths. Blue was the first one to break the silence, wanting to ignore the sparks between them. “So.. you live alone?”

“Used to live with my ex,” Ian said with a shrug, before sitting on the couch beside Blue, “before he ran away.”

“Doesn’t it get lonely?” Blue asked.

“Yeah, actually,” Ian admitted, “I’m used to having someone around that it does get lonely.” He wasn’t looking at Blue; his eyes were trained on Yevgeny, hand gently touching one of Yev’s chubby, soft, cheeks. He was almost scared to look up at Blue, to see pity behind those eyes.

He was tired of getting pitied.

“I mean.. it’s better than bein’ with someone who’s pussy enough to not say it to your face that he wanted to leave,” Blue said, and Ian looked up into those sapphire eyes, “I’d rather be with someone who’s my ride or die, than someone who’d leave when shit gets tough.”

“Yeah,” Ian said, “yeah, so do I.”

Mickey wanted to ask the redhead why his ex left him. He assumed that it was because his ex found another man, but that would fill him up with annoyance. If they dated, Mickey would never Ian; because, truth is, no one would be better than Ian to Mickey.

“Ay,” Blue said, and Ian looked up at him, “why’d he leave you?”

Ian’s stomach did flips inside him. He didn’t want Blue to know, but Ian didn’t feel that uncertainty that Blue will stay nag at him anymore.

“I’m bipolar,” Ian blurted out, and swallowed hard.

“Huh?”

Ian took a deep breath. “It’s a mental illness,” he started, slowly, uncertainly. “It’s like.. high highs followed by low lows over and over again. Manic depressive, they call it. When I’m..” he sighed and closed his eyes, not wanting to look at Blue. “When I’m manic, I do impulsive shit. Remember when I told you that I ran away to join the Army, pretended to be Lip, and then went AWOL and became a gay stripper-slash-hustler? Yeah, that was all impulsive. This goes on for fuckin’ weeks. And then I get depressed, and don’t get out of bed for weeks.” Ian remembered what his siblings would call the period where Monica was so depressed she couldn’t get out of bed—Code Pink.

“Shit,” Blue said, “isn’t that what Mon-your mom had?”

“Yeah,” Ian answered, nodding, “yeah it was. I’m medicated, but Monica wasn’t. She would.. run away whenever she got the chance to. Do drugs. Once, she found this extra cash we had saved up for fucking years, and blew it all on drugs. Hell, she even bought a car with it.”

“Fuck,” Blue said, eyes widened a bit in shock.

“Hurricane Monica, man,” Ian replied, “anyways, my family got me on meds. I’m.. I’m alright now, but I still am a tad bit impulsive.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Blue asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Ian looked down at his own hands, and picked at the skin around his nail bed.

“Thought you’d leave me,” Ian admitted.

“What, you think I’m a fucking pussy?” Blue asked, offended. “You think I’m gonna fuckin’ run and hide when you get impulsive? Hey. Look at me.” Ian refused to look up into those sapphire eyes, causing Blue to put his hand under Ian’s chin, forcing Ian to look into his eyes. “I ain’t a pussy. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” His sapphire eyes shined with sincerity, and both men held each other’s gazes momentarily for the second time, the urge to close the distance between them growing with every second.

“Right, um..” Ian said when Blue took his hand away from Ian’s face. Blue’s hand felt calloused on Ian’s face, but warm. Blue brushed the pad of his thumb against his lower lip before diverting his attention to his son on his lap. “I’ll get you your coffee.”

“You do that,” Blue muttered. Ian got up and walked over to the kitchen, dazed. “Ay, Ian?”

Ian turned, surprised that Blue was calling him by his name. “What’s up?”

“Thanks for tellin’ me,” Blue said, and smiled warmly at Ian. Ian smiled back, butterflies wreaking havoc inside him as his heart sped up.

“No problem,” Ian replied, his smile widening into a grin, and handed Blue his coffee before taking Yevgeny onto his lap. Yevgeny babbled quietly, ignoring the gazes of both men.

“He’s probably not mine,” Blue said, diverting his attention to Ian when Ian looked up at him.

“No shit,” Ian said, “she was a hand whore.”

“No, man, it’s.. it’s more than that,” Blue said. “Terry probably fuckin’ knew that she was knocked up, and married me to her.”

“Didn’t you fuck her or somethin’?” Ian asked.

“No, I..” he sighed. “Terry caught me fucking some other dude. He called Svetlana over to—” he raised both hands, holding up two fingers on each hand, and slightly curled those fingers as if he was using air quotes—“‘fuck the faggot’ out of me. Couple days later, she said she was knocked up, so Terry thought he could marry me to her, thought I wouldn’t fuck any other dude.”

“Hol-Terry made you fuck another woman cause he found out you’re gay?” Ian asked, his eyes widening slightly in shock.

“Yeah,” Blue said and brushed the pad of his thumb across his lower lip. “That was a boner killer.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Ian breathed, not knowing what to say. Blue was gay and forced to fuck another woman. Anger coursed through his veins and he rubbed his forehead. “Wow, man, that’s.. wow.”

“Yeah,” Blue said. “Hard to swallow, isn’t it?  I mean.. we’re good at swallowin’ shit that doesn’t taste good, but..” he grinned when Ian laughed.

“Thought I told you not to make any other gay jokes,” Ian said, trying to sound pissed but failed to do so.

“Technically I didn’t,” Blue said, “girls suck dick as well.”

“Fair point.”

Blue nodded. “Yev’s still my kid. Legally, y’know? And like you said, we need to be better than our parents.” It was Ian’s turn to nod.

“Yeah, we do,” Ian said, as Blue scratched the side of his nose and sniffed. “I wanna be better than Monica. That’s probably why I agreed to be medicated. Because.. if I didn’t, I’d be Monica 2.0.”

“You have no kid to take care of,” Blue replied, “you probably won’t ever have a kid to take care of.”

“Yeah, but I have a kid brother,” Ian said, “sometimes he sleeps over. Carl and Lip come over as well. We all want Liam to have the childhood we didn’t get to have.”

“Right,” Blue said. Both men sat in silence—well, as silent as it could get with Yevgeny’s incoherent speech—“coffee?”

“What?”

“Coffee affects your medication, right? That’s why you don’t drink coffee?” Blue asked, scratching his cheek.

“Yeah,” Ian answered. Blue nodded and leaned his head back, on the couch, closing his eyes. Ian studied him; his pale skin, his full, pink lips—him. Ian felt his heart stutter in his chest, wanting to reach over and touch the pale skin, tangle his fingers in raven hair, be with him.  He had it bad for Blue, there was no denying that; and he was scared.

He was scared how in such a short span in time, a touch from Blue can make Ian forget how to breathe properly, and how his heart would beat loud—as if it wanted the world to hear it—and how his body ached for Blue when he wasn’t around.

And now that Ian knows Blue is gay, his conscious had a weaker grasp on his body and his actions. He never felt this way around anyone else—not even Andre—and he was scared of how intense this feeling was.

_What the fuck did you do to me?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this sucked guys. life's just bein a lil bitch right now and i'm not in the writing mood. i tried though, so.. enjoy i guess.
> 
> until next time,
> 
> \- Gaylagher


	6. Chapter 6

Weeks turned into days, and soon enough it was Christmas. Ian was over at the Gallagher’s house, Fiona fussing over him like a mother hen. Everyone remembered that this is the first time Ian’s been without Andre, and, to be honest, Ian almost forgot about Andre.

He watched Mandy curl into Lip as a cigarette dangled from Lip’s mouth. Mandy was whipped for this boy; that was evident. Ian couldn’t help but wonder if Lip felt the same for Mandy.

“Yo,” Lip said in his usual greeting. “You, uh.. you okay?”

_Holy fuck._ “Yeah,” Ian replied, “yeah, I’m alright.”

“You seem out of it.”

“Tired, man,” Ian replied, knowing well that Lip didn’t believe him. Ian was tired of everyone waiting for Ian to do something impulsive, or explode in a fit of rage, or go into a depressive swing with bated breath. He was doing well—better than he has been in months now.

“His boyfriend isn’t here,” Mandy teased, a smirk playing on her lips.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Ian replied, with what seemed like the 100th time. “He’s just a friend.” _A friend that I probably am falling for._

Was he falling for Blue? He didn’t know. Blue made the inside of his stomach flutter—as if the mere thought of Blue woke the butterflies up and drove them crazy—and his heart swell inside his chest and beat faster and louder than it ever did.

His head was filled to the brim with thoughts of Blue; his smile, his laugh, the way his eyes shined with happiness whenever he looked at Ian, how he would stare so intensely at Ian whenever Ian talked, as if he didn’t want to miss a word that tumbles out of Ian’s mouth. He was the first person that didn’t want to know if Ian was okay, or freak out when Ian was too quiet or did something impulsive.

The thought of Blue being with any other man made Ian angry and sad at the same time—it felt like someone with an iron fist squeezed Ian’s heart until Ian’s heart exploded into little pieces. The thought of another man kissing him, touching him, making him feel good drove Ian fucking crazy.

_Fuck._ He was falling for Blue, and he didn’t know how to stop.

“Who’s this friend of yours?” Lip asked. Ian could barely hear him over the thudding of his heart echoing in his ears.

“Mickey,” Ian said, trying to seem nonchalant. If he was too scared or too sad or out of the ordinary, he would have people worrying about him and he didn’t fucking want that. Not right now.

“Mickey Milkovich?” Lip asked, incredulous.

“No, Mickey Mouse,” Ian said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “of course it’s Mickey Milkovich. How many fucking Mickeys do you know?”

“Fair enough,” Lip said, “you have a crush on Mickey?”

“No.”

“Don’t fuckin’ lie.”

Ian sighed, tired of pretending to not have feelings for Blue. “Yeah, I do,” Ian admitted. “And I don’t wanna be teased about it either man.”

“Alright, Cranky,” Lip teased, “he has a wife, and a kid. That’s pretty fucking hetero to me.”

“He’s homo,” Mandy clarified, “Dad found out he was gay or some shit. Mickey didn’t quite go into full detail about _how_ he found out, just that he did.” Mandy shrugged, like it was no big deal. Ian couldn’t blame her; she didn’t know the full story like Ian did. The fact that Blue trusted Ian enough to tell him what actually happened made Ian’s heart race even faster than it was before.

“Shit,” Lip replied, “how does he know the kid is his?”

“He doesn’t,” Mandy said, “still doesn’t change the fact that Yev is legally his.”

“That’s some Maury Povich shit,” Lip commented, cracking a smile. Ian snorted in response. It fucking was.

“I’m gonna go outside if anyone needs me,” Ian announced to no one in particular, because the minute he opened his mouth to speak, Mandy and Lip were sucking each other’s faces, and the others were conversing with each other, or getting shitfaced.

He put his coat on before sitting on the wooden steps of the porch and took out his pack of cigarettes and lighter, putting one of the sticks in his mouth before lighting it and taking a hit. He felt the smoke fill his lungs before he exhaled it out slowly, watching the smoke billow out.

He didn’t notice how tense he was until a few hits later, his shoulders were sagging and his head wasn’t swarming with thoughts anymore.

“Hey,” a voice said and Ian looked up, being greeted by bright sapphire eyes. “Mandy in there?”

“Yeah,” Ian replied. “Do you want me to go get her?”

“No, stay,” Blue said, and walked over to Ian. “Scoot over, man.”

“Right,” Ian replied and scooted over, so Blue can sit beside him. “What brings you here?”

“I could lie and say I was checkin’ up on Mandy,” Blue replied, “but I’d rather not. Wanted to see you.” Ian’s heart beat faster, and he wondered if Blue could hear it. “Merry Christmas, by the way.”

“Merry Christmas,” Ian replied, smiling at Blue. Blue gestured for the cigarette with his hand, and Ian reluctantly gave it over. “That was helping me calm down, asshole.”

“Well, Blue’s here,” Blue said. “Blue can calm Ginger down. Can’t he?”

“Why is Blue speaking in third person?”

“Blue-fuck- _I_ don’t know,” Blue said, which made Ian crack a smile for the first time that night. “See, I already made you smile and I didn’t even try.”

“Look who’s speaking in first person now,” Ian joked.

“Fuck off.”

Ian hummed in reply. “Don’t want to.” He got out another stick and lit it, taking a long drag.

“That shit’s not good for your lungs,” Blue informed Ian, as he took another hit.

Ian looked at him incredulously. “You’re smoking,” he stated matter-of-factly, watching the shorter man exhale the smoke out of his nose.

“Yeah, I don’t count,” Blue joked. Ian grinned and shook his head, only to have Blue grin around his cigarette stick. Ian shoved him lightly with his shoulder, making Blue chuckle. “Abusive asshole.”

“Fuck off,” Ian said, and the two men smoked in silence. The cold air hit Ian’s face, reddening his cheeks, and tousling his hair. “This your first Christmas with a friend, huh?”

“Yeah,” Blue nodded, “it’s a nice change of pace, jokin’ around with someone who gets me, y’know?”

“So.. just because I’m gay and around your age range, I get you?” Ian asked, raising his eyebrows.

“No, I mean..” Blue hesitated and wet his lips, “you’re the first person that I could talk to, openly. You always know what to say that won’t piss me off. And as someone who gets easily pissed off, that’s a huge accomplishment. So.. congrats, man.”

Ian laughed. “Thanks, that means a lot.” He stayed silent for a bit. “This Christmas is different for me. I’m single and.. I thought this time of the year would be hard for me, but it isn’t. You made this time of the year tolerable, man. You made going through a breakup tolerable.”

“Ay, don’t say shit like that until Valentines Day,” Blue said, “cause you’ll probably cry like a bitch then.”

“Nah,” Ian shook his head, “never did anything for Valentines Day. It’s a stupid ass holiday anyways.”

“Right?” Blue said enthusiastically. “I mean, if you wanna show appreciation and love to someone you like, do it all the time. Give ‘em hugs, kisses, tell them you appreciate them, buy ‘em shit all the time. You don’t get to be an asshole for 364 days of the year but then be fuckin’ amazing on Valentines Day.”

“Exactly,” Ian said. “Now that we’re on the topic of ‘weird shit couples do,’ does it ever annoy you when couples do cheesy shit on every holiday?” Mickey raised an eyebrow, indicating that Ian should elaborate. “Like.. kissing under the mistletoe. Or kissing on New Years Eve when the clock hits midnight. Shit like that.”

“Yeah, that shit’s gay,” Blue said which made Ian raise his eyebrows in response, “not like.. homosexual-gay, like we are, like.. fuck, you know what I’m talkin’ about. Anyways, it is.. fucking stupid.”

“Yeah,” Ian agreed, “but I mean.. they’re being fucking stupid while expressing their love towards the other person.”

“Did Andre ever do that shit?” Blue asked, his sapphire eyes trained on the gravel.

“Yeah,” Ian admitted, “he did.” Blue seemed visibly upset by that new piece of information, and Ian didn’t know why. “But.. I mean, he didn’t love me enough. He’s not here this year. Probably kissin’ a mentally stable dude.” Even though Ian was over Andre, it hurt, knowing that Andre could leave him without hesitation, all because shit got tough.

“Fuck him, man,” Blue said, and looked up at Ian, eyes shining in the darkness. Ian suddenly became aware at how close they were, and how full and pink Blue’s lips were from where he was seated. They always looked full and pink, but Ian’s urge to kiss them was never this strong.

He tentatively raised a hand to caress the man’s cheek, and exhaled slowly through his mouth when Blue didn’t knock it out of the way.  His skin felt so soft and under Ian’s hand.

Blue’s sapphire eyes were trained on Ian’s parted lips as both men leaned in. Ian closed his eyes. _This is really fucking happening._ He felt Blue’s warm breath fan over his lips, and—

“Hello, boys,” a voice slurred, making both Blue and Ian jump out of each other’s reach. Frank grinned at both of them. “Where was the mistletoe?”

“What?” Ian asked lamely.

“You both were about to suck each others’ faces off, don’t lie,” Frank beamed.

“Fuck off, Frank,” Blue groused and got up, narrowing eyes at the drunk man.

“Hey, I’m not homophobic,” Frank said, and raised both his hands in surrender, “doesn’t matter who you like to fuck, as long as they finish you off. Hey, how’s Terry?”

“Go away,” Ian grumbled, irritated that he couldn’t kiss Blue. He knew that he would think of how Blue’s breath fanned over Ian’s lips for days to come. He looked at Blue and smiled almost apologetically.

“I have to go home or Svetlana will have my ass,” Blue informed Ian, “merry Christmas, Ginger.”

“Merry Christmas,” Ian replied, and Blue turned around to walk back to the sidewalk.

“Where’s my ‘Merry Christmas’?” Frank slurred, visibly offended. Blue raised his hand behind him, flipping Frank off, which made Ian laugh. “Yeah, well, fuck you too. I don’t need your fucking ‘Merry Christmas’. Christmas is a stolen holiday. It’s not even Jesus’ birthday! Christians stole it from the Pagans.”

“That’s great, Frank,” Ian said, tuning out Frank’s ramble about how “Jesus was born in spring and not winter” with Blue’s lips occupying his mind.

Yeah, he was falling for Blue, head-first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi lovelies! i'm sorry for the teasing. they're gonna kiss real soon don't worry babies.
> 
> y'all are actually super sweet and ik that i was in a shitty mood the last time that i updated this but you guys really cheered me up with your comments, and i loved that! so thank you so much for everything.
> 
> until next time,
> 
> \- Gaylagher


	7. Chapter 7

The sun peaked over the horizon, waking all forms of life up gently, reminding them that another day has started. Slowly, but surely, the forms of life reciprocated, the feeling of tiredness clinging onto them, evident in their eyes, as they sleepily greeted the beginning of a new day.

Yes, everyone was awake—except for a lanky redhead, and two small raven-haired siblings.

The night before, Blue and Ian had agreed to lounge in Ian’s small apartment, and a teary-eyed Mandy appeared at Ian’s apartment shortly after, claiming that her and Lip had gotten into yet another fight—“four fights in a week? Holy shit, Mands,” Blue had commented—and cried into Ian’s arms.

It was evident that Blue sucked at comforting people. When Ian had left the two siblings alone to take a leak, Blue had only pet her hair while uselessly murmuring “it’ll be alright, don’t worry” and “he’s a fucking asshole, you’re fuckin’ great.”

When Ian had gotten back to them, Blue looked like he wanted to kiss him—which, Mickey did, but not because the redhead had saved him from comforting Mandy for any longer—and Blue retreated to his corner on the couch, adding his agreements whenever he could.

The trio had passed out on the couch, Mandy lying on it, using Ian’s thigh as a pillow, and Blue had his head on Ian’s shoulder, while Ian’s head was lolled back, one arm being in Blue’s tight clutch, and the other protectively over Mandy. Soft exhales and deep inhales filled the room, Mandy being the first to get up and Ian waking up right after her.

“Morning,” she said, and checked the time. “I take that back. It’s afternoon.”

Ian rubbed his eye with his now free hand. “Hm?”

“It’s 1 PM,” Mandy clarified.

“Fuck,” Ian said, hand moving back to rub a sore spot on his neck. “Fiona’s gonna have my ass.”

Mandy laughed. “No shit.” Ian gave her a sleepy smile before turning his head to look at the messy pile of hair tickling his neck and cheek. Mandy watched her best friend stare at her brother, and was in awe of the happiness and adoration Ian’s eyes held for Mickey, and a part of her wanted Lip to look at her that way. “You must really like him, huh?”

“Yeah,” Ian admitted, tearing his eyes away from Blue to look at Mandy, “I do.”

“Don’t know what you see in my brother.”

“Don’t know what you see in mine,” Ian replied, not wanting to talk about his feelings. He didn’t know whether Blue liked him, or if the almost-kiss was a one time thing—like Ian’s fate that night was initially written for him to kiss Blue, but someone up there changed their minds.

“Fair point,” Mandy mumbled, “I guess.. he’s the only one who hasn’t used me, or hit me; he seemed like he cared.” Ian’s heart shattered at the despair and hopelessness displayed all over her features, and for the first time in a long, long time, Ian was annoyed with Lip.

“I’ll talk to him,” Ian assured her, with a small smile.

“No, I don’t want to drag you into this,” Mandy replied, involuntarily licking her lips. Apparently it was a tick that both Mandy and Blue had. “You already have a lot on your plate now.”

Ian shook his head. Mandy was right, Ian _did_ have a lot on his plate now; but if Mandy or Casey—or Blue, even—were distressed, he would move shit around to make room for them. Their problems were his as well, even if they didn’t want to get him involved.

“I’m in this, whether you like it or not,” Ian replied, raising his eyebrows. “We’re all in this together.”

“Alright, Troy Bolton,” a voice croaked from his side, as Blue nuzzled his face into Ian’s shoulder, oblivious to the impact that it had on Ian. Ian focused on his steady breathing and his heart thudding loudly against his ribcage, while simultaneously refusing to focus on how close Blue was and how Ian had found his new favourite scent—it being the cologne of a man who made him feel like he was flying and biting concrete at the same time, and made the skin that he touched tingle with thrill and anticipation; just like how those thoughts consumed him late at night when he laid in bed alone, or with another anonymous man that wasn’t nothing but another hole to fuck to Ian.

“I’m not Troy Bolton,” Ian decided to say, and Blue got up.

“Sharpay Evans, then?”

“It’s weird how you still remember the High School Musical characters, Mick,” Mandy teased.

“Fuck off, I said two names. Don’t make me no expert.”

Ian had gotten up and left the quarreling siblings. He was secretly upset that Blue had gotten up from beside Ian, and not-so-secretly happy that Mandy felt better than she did the night before. He made a mental note to talk to Lip about his relationship with Mandy, before it snowballed into something huge, as he made fluffy eggs and brewed coffee for both his crush and his best friend.

As he was waiting for both the Milkoviches to get into the kitchen—both eerily quiet—he checked his phone. As he suspected, Fiona had spam-texted him, asking why he hadn’t come in, and he felt irritation seep in as the last bit of sleepiness ebbed away.

 _Slept in,_ he replied to her never-ending texts, hoping that it would suffice and relax his already worked up sister. Both Blue and Mandy were speaking in hushed, worried voices, and when Ian had glanced at them, Mandy was standing, her dainty hands on her narrow waist and Blue..

Blue’s face had paled—if that was possible—as his eyes were widened in unrecognizable fear, as he ran his tattooed fingers through his raven hair, until the point where his hair—which was usually swept back—was sticking in all directions. Ian would tease him about it if he didn’t look like he saw two ghosts fucking.

“Ay,” Ian said, both Milkoviches snapping their heads to look at him, neither expression relaxing at the sight of the redhead. “Breakfast.”

“I don’t think I can stomach food, man, sorry,” Blue said, his voice trembling.

“What happened?” Ian inquired, trying to sound curious, trying to burying his worry under the pseudo-curiousness, but failed to do so. His heart raced in fear, imagining the worse case scenario that could happen to either Blue or Mandy, and his stomach dropping to his feet when Mandy confirmed it.

“Terry’s out of jail.”

 

***************

Blue could not relax—understandably so. Ian tried to give Mandy comfort but she had announced she’s going to Casey's, so Ian was focused on letting Blue try to calm his nerves and failing to do so.

Both men were at the bleachers, Ian’s hands in the pockets of his coat, while Blue’s hands were covering his face. Blue would sometimes give a light shake of his head. “I have nowhere to go,” Blue said, voice slightly muffled by his hands, as he shook his head again. 

"What?"

Blue let out a sigh. "Came out to Terry a while ago. Specifically, hours after Yev's baptism," he explained, and Ian didn't need to hear more to understand. Terry wouldn't want Blue back home, not after Blue confirmed—twice—that he liked males and not females. Blue didn't lift his head from his hands, and resumed shaking his head, feeling a mixture of so many emotions at once.

“You could stay at my place. Mandy can, too,” Ian offered, and the shorter man slowly lifted his head from his hands, to look at Ian, searching his face for insincerity. Maybe Ginger was fucking with him. That didn’t sound like Ginger, however—Ginger somehow knew where the line was crossed when it came to fucking with Mickey Milkovich; like he’d drawn the line himself.

“You fucking serious?” Blue asked, as if Ian was big of an asshole enough to joke about it.

Ian was dead serious. His apartment was big enough to fit three people. If he had to, he’d sleep on the couch while Mandy and Blue slept on his bed. “Yeah,” Ian nodded, “yeah, I am.” He walked over to Blue, one tentative step at a time. Blue had stood up by now, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Blue was still a bundle of nerves, Ian knew that. “Hey. Look at me.” As if it had a mind of its own, Ian’s clammy hand left the comfort and warmth of his pocket, and touched the skin that connected Blue’s jaw and neck. Blue flinched, looking at Ian. “It’s gonna be okay.” He rubbed his thumb soothingly against Blue's face.

Mickey relaxed. This was Ginger; the man who could caress his neck and not get decked in the face. His face involuntarily leaned into the clammy hand, lapping up the surge of emotions that came when Ginger touched him—which wasn’t a lot.

Ian, taking the fact that Blue didn’t give him a shiner for touching him like this as encouragement to let go of Blue’s face and hug him; something he did when comforting Mandy whenever she was upset.

Except, this wasn’t Mandy. This was her older brother, Mickey Milkovich, a man who wouldn’t think twice about hurting Ian. But he didn’t hurt Ian. He rest his hands on Ian’s sides before wrapping his arms around Ian tightly, as Ian held him.

Both men pulled back from the not-so-awkward hug, needing more but not exactly sure how to initiate it. Ian noticed that Blue was less tense and could even crack a smile at Ian. “That was gettin’ gay, Ginger,” Blue teased, raising an eyebrow, a smile still on his face.

“Well, I’m already gay,” Ian said, shrugging a bit. “So are you.”

Blue widened his eyes in mock surprise at his revelation. “Shit, really? Tell me more about myself.”

“Fuck off,” Ian chuckled.

“What if I don’t want to?” Blue asked, biting his lower lip. In an alternate universe, Ian would’ve grabbed Blue’s face and kissed him until both their lips were aching, and both men were out of breath from kissing each other, and Ian would finally get to know how those full, pink lips would feel against his own, finally itch that scratch he’s been dying to itch for weeks now.

But in this universe, Ian was too chickenshit to do anything, to make a move. So that itch intensified and Ian tried his best to ignore it. “Then don’t,” Ian said nonchalantly, shrugging, as if that lip bite didn’t drive him crazy, and that his self-control wasn’t on its last leg. As if Ian’s heart didn’t expand inside his chest and beat rapidly and loudly, rattling his ribcage.

Blue had no idea what effect he had on Ian, and Ian had no idea what effect he had on Blue either.

 

***************

Ian and Lip were at the Alibi, while Lip swallowed his alcoholic drink, his speech slurring more by the minute. “Did you know that Fiona’s getting married? Again?” Ian shrugged. In all honesty, he didn’t care. That was Fiona’s life; if she found someone else to marry, good for her.

“It’s become an annual thing,” Lip continued on, to Ian and anyone else who was within earshot as he clumsily got to his feet, “like Christmas, or Valentine’s Day, or birthdays. Fuck, marriages are supposed to be sacred, not taken as something lightly. Does ‘till death do us part’ mean nothing to anyone anymore?”

Ian eyed Lip, an uneasy feeling sitting on his stomach. Lip’s mini drunken rant reminded Ian of an asshole he knew all too well—an asshole that’s fucked their lives up in more ways than one. He grabbed Lip’s arm and pulled him back on the seat. “Here, have my drink,” Ian offered, and pushed the drink over to Lip, the drink sloshing and spilling on the already-sticky counter.

Lip took one sip and made a face. “It’s not alcohol.”

“Exactly, so drink up,” Ian said and raised his eyebrows in a challenging way. Both Gallagher brothers were undeniably obdurate, but Ian slightly more so than Lip. So, it wasn’t a surprise when Lip caved in and drank the sweet liquid. “What’s going on with you and Mandy?”

“Nothing’s going on,” Lip groused.

“Really? Cause she came over to my place—”

“Yours and Andre’s place.”

“ _My_ place,” Ian continued, irritation bubbling inside him, “in tears, saying that you guys got into another fight. I know you’ve had shitty women in the past, but Mandy isn’t fucking shitty, not one bit. So you either get your shit together and make up with her, or you fucking dump her.”

Both men stayed in silence, staring the other one down. Anger blazed in Lip’s eyes while Ian kept his face impassive and his eyes hiding his anger—as if they were two emerald walls that hid secrets from the public to see, hid the anger that Ian felt at that moment.

The older brother broke the eye contact, his eyes travelling to his non-alcoholic drink. Ian reached over and companionably patted his shoulder. “Think about it.” He slid off his seat and grabbed his coat, and put it on, thankful that the conversation to end. Or so he thought.

“At least my partners can tolerate me,” Lip said, “at least they don’t leave me with a fucking note taped onto the fridge door.”

If Ian wasn’t on his meds, he would’ve decked the smug asshole right in the face. But he was, and he didn’t let his anger control him anymore, like it did in the past; because a fight would’ve been something that Lip wanted. Instead, he walked out, wanting to create as much distance as possible between him and Lip.

_One foot in front of the other._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah ik, terry's back??? WHAT THE FUCK
> 
> he won't make an appearance, i promise you that. i just needed a good enough reason to get mickey and mandy out of the milkovich household. 
> 
> also (this has been something i've been on the fence about) but would you guys want me to make this a series? i don't wanna continue on with a sequel if y'all don't want me to. so.. comment down below, lovelies!!
> 
> until next time,
> 
> \- Gaylagher


	8. Part 1

_Sapphire eyes held love and affection that Ian didn’t know he was missing up until this point, calloused fingertips gently touching Ian, as if Ian was made of porcelain—fragile, yet so strong at the same time. The warmth was radiating from his body, Ian holding onto him tightly; enough to let him know that Ian needed him to be beside him, yet not too tightly to make him uncomfortable._

_His grip on Ian was just as hard, as if he wanted to squeeze the broken pieces of the redhead back together to make him whole again. He pressed his lips against Ian’s—the action sending shivers down Ian’s spine._

_The man’s lips were soft, but pushed against Ian’s lips with great strength, as both men opened their mouths, tongue dancing together while tattooed hands roamed the taller man’s body; as if his fingers wanted to memorize every inch of Ian’s body, feel every curve and scar he can._

_“I love you,” Ian admitted when he pulled back._

_However, the man’s grip slowly loosened—at first it was little by little, and soon enough, the man had let go completely. Ian blinked, looking into those sapphire eyes, the exact ones that he fell uncontrollably for, looking at him with pity and regret. Ian’s stomach flipped inside him, as tears rolled down Ian’s face._

_“I can’t deal with this anymore. I’m sorry .”_

Ian woke up with a start, his skin dampened with sweat—even though he wasn’t hot—and his eyes searching in the darkness. The back of his neck hurt, as he struggled to take in his environment in the darkness. He had fallen asleep on the couch, in an uncomfortable position. He turned his phone on, the brightness momentarily blinding him. He checked the time—it was 11 PM. Ian didn’t remember when he fell asleep, but he did.

The heavy feeling of sleepiness didn’t fade away as he made his way to the kitchen, his stomach growling, demanding that Ian put food in it. His phone _ding_ ed twice and he grabbed it, fumbling while trying to open the text, heart racing when it was from Blue.

 _Meet me at the bleachers_ , his text said, and then added, _I got Barbeque Pringles, bitch. And Snickers bars, but the Snickers bars are MINE._

 _Alright_ , Ian replied, hoping it would suffice.

 _How’d you sleep, Aurora?_ The reply said.

_Aurora?_

_That was Sleeping Beauty’s name, asshole._

_The fact that you know that amuses me._ Ian put on his coat and boots on and headed out the door, a small smile playing on his lips.

_Mandy loved her, ok? Wouldn’t shut up about it when we were kids._

_Whatever you say, big guy._

 

***************

__

“About fucking time you came,” Blue teased, as he held his cigarette stick between two tattooed fingers. Ian flipped him off.

“I was still groggy when I walked out the door,” Ian said, as he leaned back on the metal fence next to Blue, and grabbed the untouched Pringles can. He opened the can, and chewed on the crunchy, thin chip. “Sorry I kept you waitin’.” Ian said with a small smile, as Blue took a long drag of his cigarette. He looked up at the dark sky, hanging over them, darkening the bleachers. Ian knew Blue suspected that he wasn’t in a great mood—which he wasn’t. His mind kept replaying the dream he had.

“It’s alright, man,” Blue said, as he exhaled the smoke. Ian enjoyed the chips and Blue the cigarette, and took out another stick to light when he was done with the first one. “Terry coming home is botherin’ both me and Lana.”

“You okay?” Ian asked, putting a hand on Blue’s shoulder. “Is Svetlana okay? She’s not living in the Milkovich household, is she?”

“No,” Blue muttered around the cigarette, as he successfully lit it and took a drag, “no. She lives with Kev and V now. Yev’s nowhere near Terry,” he added after exhaling the smoke.

Ian nodded and took his hand away. Both men stayed in silence, not in the mood to talk much, but enjoying each other’s presence. “Maybe you should get a paternity test.”

“Why?” Blue asked.

“Aren’t you curious as to who his father may be?” Ian asked, as Blue took another drag. Ian reached over for the cigarette while Blue was mid-drag, and Blue moved his head away, making vague, animated hand gestures in the process. “I would be dying to know.”

Blue exhaled the smoke and handed the cigarette to Ian. “Well, I’m not. If the father’s not me, I’m still responsible for Yevgeny. I’m the unlucky fuck that got hitched to Lana. I’d rather pretend that he’s mine, than know for sure he’s not.” Ian took a drag, and eyed Blue. Blue was avoiding eye contact with Ian, and consistently brushed the pad of his thumb (or his knuckle) against the side of his nose.

“You okay?” Ian repeated. _Of course he’s not, dumb fuck. His homophobic asshole of a father is released back into society._ Blue just nodded and held his hand out for the cigarette, which Ian gave.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” Blue lied, and apparently took interest on the snow they were standing on, “just a lot goin’ on.”

“You’re not going to tell me?” Ian asked, raising his eyebrows at the older man.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

Blue licked his lips, unsure of whether he wanted to tell Ian. He’s never talked to anyone about things that bothered him—in fact, he’s never had a friend until Ian. He didn’t know how it worked; how this friendship thing worked. Was it a friendship? Was a friend supposed to make your stomach fill with butterflies, or make your heart race, or can make your day by just smiling?

He wasn’t sure. Yet, Ginger made him feel all this gay shit that he didn’t think he could feel, and he didn’t know how to fucking deal with it. All he knew was that he wanted to kiss the dumbass.

Blue’s head turned to look at Ian—sapphire eyes bright in the dark, glowing, an unreadable expression on his face, as he seemingly was weighing his options, before coming to a decision. He put out his cigarette before tossing it onto the ground, and moved so he was in front of Ian, caressing his neck and leaning in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so.. i was had writers block, and wrote a shitty chapter, and deleted the whole thing.
> 
> the next chapter-which i'm working on atm-takes place immediately after this, so ya.


	9. Part 2

Blue pressed his lips to Ian’s, tentatively, as if he was expecting Ian to push him away. Ian didn’t, however; he reciprocated, breathing the scent of Blue in and savouring the feel of Blue’s lips against his. There was no tongue involved, but shivers shot down Ian’s spine, as his head was spinning. Blue pulled back slightly, leaving little space between their lips. “Been wanting to do that for a while now,” Blue admitted, his lips gently brushing against Ian’s.

“Shut up,” Ian said, grabbing the back of Blue’s neck and kissed him more fervently. Blue happily reciprocates, as both men open their mouths, their tongues dancing together. They pulled back when their lungs screamed for oxygen.

“Take your fucking jacket off,” Blue said before Ian kissed him again.

“Here?” Ian mumbled against the kiss but obliged, as Blue did the same. Ian was drowning in giddiness as their lips reconnected, bodies pressed against each other. Ian’s mind was filled with how tight Blue would feel inside, as Blue trailed wet kisses down to Ian’s neck, the area being filled by the smack of lips against skin. Blue pulled Ian’s pants down with fumbling fingers, and palmed him against his boxers.

“You’re packin’, Ginger,” Blue said against his neck, as Ian pulled Blue’s pants and boxers down, and grabbed his bare ass. He didn’t know how bad he needed Blue until that moment. Blue turned around and stuck his ass out, as Ian coated his digits with spit before slowly slipping one in.

Blue hissed in pleasure and pain, as Ian leaned over and kissed his neck, slowly slipping another finger in, scissoring the shorter man. “Fuck, I’m ready,” Blue said, holding back a moan. Ian took his fingers out and coated his dick with spit, lining it up with Blue’s opening.

“I’ll be gentle,” Ian promised, laying a kiss under Blue’s earlobe. He was fully aware of how big he was, and didn’t want to cause Blue any pain, especially when they didn’t have lube.

“Fuck that,” Blue replied, “give it to me good and hard, Ginger.” Ian smiled against Blue’s skin before thrusting into Blue, earning him a “holy shit” from the shorter man.

Ian gripped Blue’s hips, breathing heavily, mouthing the back of Blue’s neck, as he fucked the man at a steadying pace, gradually picking up speed, as the older man moaned softly. Ian could get used to that sound. He dropped one of his hands and circled it around Blue’s cock, jerking him off. Blue’s breath hitched, and he turned his head so he can kiss Ian.

Ian could feel Blue’s cock leaking and he was reaching his climax as well, and he angled his hips to hit Blue’s prostate, pulling him up so they were back to chest, and jerking Blue off at a faster pace. Blue rolled his head back on Ian’s shoulder as Ian bottomed out. “S-so good,” he managed to say, “so fucking good.”

Ian shot cum into Blue’s ass, and Blue came all over Ian’s hand. Both men were panting from the fucking, Ian having half a heart to pinch himself, making sure he wasn’t dreaming, as he pulled out and both men cleaned themselves and got dressed.

“We should get home,” Blue said, and Ian nodded. He was wondering if Blue used him as a way to relieve stress, and dread filled him, as he put his jacket on. The kiss meant everything to Ian, and it itched that scratch in the back of his head; the wonder of how Blue’s lips felt, mixed with the craving of wanting Blue’s lips on his.

As if Blue read his mind, he pulled Ian in for a kiss—the kiss held everything that Mickey wanted to say, but didn’t know how to form the proper words to say.

And just like that, all of Ian’s worries vanished.

 

***************

“Fuck you, Batman could kick Superman’s ass,” Blue argued as he took out the cookies from the oven.

“Nah,” Ian replied, “Superman can fuckin’ fly.”

“Superman also has a weakness,” Blue reminded him.

“Kryptonite, I remember,” Ian said, as he helped Blue put the cookies on plates. “Fuck, this is hot.”

“Exactly, so all Batman would have to do is show up with Kryptonite, and Superman has no chance against him,” Blue argued, “I know, it just came out of the fucking oven. What did you expect, fuckhead?”

“Don’t call me— _mm_ ,” Ian started but was cut off by Blue’s lips. Ever since they’ve come home, Blue would lean over and plant a kiss on Ian’s lips, almost as if he was making up for the times he wanted to kiss Ian but chickened out. They opened their mouths and their tongues danced lazily, before Ian latched his lips on Blue’s neck. Blue’s breath hitched when Ian licked and sucked on the soft skin.

“Fuck Superman. Ay!” Blue protested, when Ian pulled back, narrowing his eyes.

“Shouldn’t have insulted my Kent like that,” Ian replied, turning back to the cookies.

“You insulted my Wayne.”

“Your Wayne, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m datin’ him,” Blue joked, “should’ve told you that _before_ you went balls deep in me.”

“You should’ve, asshole,” Ian replied, feigning anger towards Blue.

“Oops?” Blue shrugged and rubbed the spot Ian was kissing not too long ago. Both men heard the door open and close, and saw both Mandy and Lip walk in, hand in hand. Ian tensed at the sight of Lip, remembering their last conversation and turned his back to the couple.

“Yo,” Lip greeted.

“Hey,” Blue said back, half-heartedly, eyes momentarily darting to the redhead.

“You made cookies?” Mandy asked, sauntering over to Ian and grabbing a cookie. “Since when does my brother bake?”

“Since ‘shut the fuck up, bitch’,” Blue replied, “besides, Ginger here baked ‘em. I just took ‘em out of the oven.”

“And ate half of the cookie dough,” Ian added.

“Cookie dough tastes fuckin’ great, asshole.”

“It’ll give you salmonella, fuckhead.” Both men held eye contact, Ian already missing the feeling of Blue’s lips on his. Blue’s lips were addicting; Ian got a taste, now he wanted more.

“It won’t, _Mom_ ,” Blue replied, not breaking the eye contact, “stop fuckin’ worrying.” Ian sighed as Blue reached over and grabbed another cookie. The rest of the night continuing on like that, as Blue and Ian suppressed their urges to kiss each other while chatting away with the other two.


	10. Chapter 10

Ian walked over to the crammed kitchen, opening the fridge door and peering inside, when he heard the door open, and his heart accelerated when he heard the voice he was yearning to hear for the whole day. “Hey,” Blue greeted as he shut the door and took his coat off.

Blue was out the whole day and Mandy was with Lip, so the apartment felt strangely empty. He got vague flashbacks to when Andre left, and he felt forlorn. But Blue was home and the apartment felt less empty, and all Ian felt was the strong urge to kiss him. “Hi,” Ian said back.

Blue walked over to him, and closed the fridge door, his intentions clear as day to Ian. Ian slotted their lips together, and Blue’s calloused hand caressed the side of Ian’s neck. Blue pulled back slightly after a handful of seconds of kissing, and Ian could see the tiny freckles on Blue’s face he didn’t notice before. Ian could admire them for a split second before Blue reconnected their lips again, and they kissed until their lips were aching and their lungs demanded oxygen.

“Where were you?” Ian asked after they pulled back, pulling open the fridge door and peering inside again.

“Running errands,” Blue replied, kissing Ian’s clothed shoulder.

“For the entire day?”

“For the entire day.” Ian turned his head to eye his not-boyfriend sceptically. Ian had issues that he didn’t want Blue to deal with, because the last time he did let someone in, they bailed. Besides, Blue didn’t want to be in a relationship; he’s made that clear.

However, their mutual agreement on being fuckbuddies didn’t keep Ian’s feelings at bay. No, it did the opposite thing; it intensified Ian’s feelings for Blue. Before, Ian didn’t know how soft Blue’s lips were, or how he tasted, or what Blue felt like when Ian was balls deep in him. Ian didn’t know how Blue sounded when he was moaning in pleasure. Ian didn’t know any of that.

Now he knows. He knows exactly how soft Blue’s lips were, and how they conveyed what Blue felt for him through kisses that made Ian feel like he was floating, made his head spin, and made his lips tingle, and how tight Blue was, and how _fucking hot_ his moans sounded. And Ian needed more.

“You’re bein’ safe, right?”

“Yeah,” Blue confirmed, “yeah. Don’t worry about me.”

“Of course I’m going to worry about you! I..” Ian trailed off. _I love you._ Blue raised his eyebrows, silently urging Ian to finish the sentence. Ian swallowed hard. “I care about you.”

“I’m glad you care about me, Ginger,” Blue replied, “but I’ll be alright.” He gave Ian a chaste kiss before heading to the bathroom to take a shower.

 

***************

Ian’s eyes were heavy, but his mind was too preoccupied with pesky thoughts to go to sleep. Since Mandy texted Ian that she’s staying over at the Gallagher’s house, Ian and Blue were sharing the bed. Ian turned his head to look at Blue in the grainy darkness. Blue’s skin was creamy, and he looked peaceful.

Blue was laying on his side, facing Ian, one hand loosely gripping Ian’s arm, and one leg over Ian’s. Ian tried to gently move onto his side so he was facing Blue, making sure Blue didn’t wake up. Blue stirred at the movement, and slowly opened his eyes.

“Sorry,” Ian said, and Blue shook his head.

“Don’t apologize, man,” Blue replied. Ian draped an arm around Blue’s waist and the latter tensed. “The fuck?”

“I’m puttin’ an arm around you, Jesus,” Ian replied.

“This is gay.”

“Oh yeah? And you taking my cock up the ass like a champ isn’t?” Ian inquired, raising his eyebrows.

“Definitely not,” Blue replied, his eyes twinkling in the darkness. Ian shook his head, and both men stayed in silence. The pesky thoughts that were keeping Ian up were gradually dissipating as sleep took over. He closed his eyes, Blue’s warm breath fanning over his face.

“Hey, Ginger?” Blue said.

“Mm?” Ian replied, sleepily, his eyes still closed. Silence filled the air, Mickey not knowing how to say the words that he’s been wanting to say for quite some time.

“Good night,” Blue said instead.

“Night.” And just like that, Ian was out like a light.

His alarm cut through his slumber like a knife, and Blue groaned. Blue had turned around, so Ian was spooning him instead, and Ian slowly turned around to shut his alarm off. “Fuck,” Blue croaked as he sat up, and looked over to see the redhead slowly falling back asleep. Blue grabbed his pillow and hit Ian with it. “Get up.”

Ian tried his best to ignore the hit, but Blue kept doing it again, and again, and again. “Jesus! I’m up!” He sat up, narrowing his eyes at the raven-haired man. “Asshole.”

“Get dressed, dipshit, you’re going to be late,” Blue said, no malice in his tone whatsoever.

“You my father now?” Ian rubbed his eyes, and yawned.

“Nah,” Blue replied, “but you can call me ‘Daddy’ in bed.” Ian grinned at Blue’s joke and reluctantly got out of bed.

“Sure, why not?” Ian joked, “didn’t have a father, so now I have a daddy.”

Blue laughed and shook his head.

“You started it, don’t shake your head at me.” Ian walked over to the bathroom and brushed his teeth.

“I’m my own man,” Blue replied, “I do what I want.”

Ian rolled his eyes, and rinsed his toothbrush and mouth after he was done. “Ay, I’m busy for most of the day today,” Blue replied.

“Oh,” Ian said, trying to swallow his disappointment.

“I’ll be home sooner than yesterday, though,” Blue promised, “so we can go to the cafe tonight.” And with that, he brushed his teeth, unable to talk, while Ian made eggs and blueberry pancakes for the both of them, and was brewing coffee when Blue walked out, fully clothed. “You’re gonna be okay without me, right?” he smirked teasingly.

“Nah,” Ian joked, and Blue laughed, the sound making Ian’s heart swell inside his chest.

“You made blueberry pancakes for me? I’m touched, really.” Blue sat down at the table. “I like playin’ House with you, Ginger. You’d make the best housewife.”

“ _You’d_ be the housewife.”

“The fuck I would,” Blue replied. “I’d accidentally burn down the fucking house.”

“But you’d be a pretty housewife,” Ian joked, sitting down next to him, “you’re a pretty boy.”

“Don’t call me a pretty boy, asswipe.”

“Pretty boy. Ow!” Ian rubbed his arm where Blue hit him. “That’s the second time you hurt me.”

“I hit you with a cushion the first time,” Blue argued, “that shit doesn’t hurt.”

“Fuck you, asshole.”

“I’d let you, but we don’t have enough time,” Blue flirted, dragging his tongue over his lower lip. Ian leaned over and slotted their lips together, kissing him passionately, as both men opened their mouths and let their tongues dance together. Ian's head spun, and shivers shot down his spine, as his heartbeats accelerated.

Both men pulled back, and Ian looked into those blue eyes, blown away by how two orbs can be so beautiful, so full of emotion, and so easy to get lost into those eyes. “I love your eyes,” Ian complimented, “I love you.”

Blue’s eyes widened a bit, lips parted in surprise. “I-I gotta go.” He got up abruptly and putting

“Mickey,” Ian called, but it was no use—Blue had rushed out the door. Ian watched the older man leave, heart crushing as an unbearable pain set itself in him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay.. this was hard to type.
> 
> side note: noel fisher has tiny ass freckles that you only notice in close-ups, since he is naturally a redhead. so, mickey has em too, just less noticeable than ian's.
> 
> \- Gaylagher


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heads up; this is in mandy's perspective. this is the first time i wrote in any other POV besides mickey's and ian's. if y'all want a separate fanfic for mandy and lip, comment down below, and i will start as soon as i'm done UT.
> 
> also, the prompt of this chapter was inspired by First Day Of My Life by Ride4812. that fanfic is great, go check it out.

“I’m telling you,” Casey said with a mouthful of food, “Ross and Rachel are a dysfunctional couple, and will probably divorce in a couple of years. They’re un-shippable.”

“And _I’m_ telling you that that’s a load of bullshit,” Mandy replied. Both Casey and Mandy were at Patsy’s, shovelling food in their mouths while arguing about who was the cutest couple on Friends. “Ross and Rachel fought tooth and nail for each other.”

“Bullshit,” Casey said, and Mandy drank her coffee, the bittersweet taste warming up her gullet.

“They even had a baby together.”

“How many people do you know that had kids together, and are in love with each other?” Casey inquired, raising an eyebrow. Mandy opened her mouth, wanting to prove him wrong, but couldn’t. She knew two examples in her family alone that proved Casey’s point; her parents, and Mickey and Svetlana. Casey smirked when Mandy failed to answer his question. “Exactly.”

“Fuck you for always bein’ right,” Mandy replied, furrowing eyebrows in frustration.

“Ay, my parents are lawyers,” Casey explained, “I got their arguing genes.”

Mandy and Casey ate in silence, Mandy’s sapphire eyes watching Casey intently. His life was so different than hers; he grew up around yuppie motherfuckers who probably never went to bed, with their stomachs growling viciously in hunger. They never had to use their fists as defence; neither did they have to care about getting jumped.

Not that Mandy cared about getting jumped; she was a Milkovich. If you messed with her, all she had to do was turn the waterworks on and tell her brothers, and soon enough, you’d be on her brothers’ death list.

Mandy rarely did that, however—she didn’t want to _always_ depend on her brothers to do her dirty work. That was being cowardly; hiding behind your brothers while they protect you.

Besides, they couldn’t protect Mandy from the one man that did cause her harm; her dad.

She physically shuddered, and Casey eyed her, a worried expression on his face. “You okay, Mands?”

“Yeah,” Mandy replied, “yeah, I’m alright.” She took a deep breath and decided to divert the subject. “So, I’m savin’ up so Ian, Mickey and I could get a bigger apartment.”

“Why, is the apartment too small for you?”

“Well.. Mickey and Ian are..” what were they? They were in love, no doubt, but both of them were probably too fucking stupid to make things official, or to face their feelings head-on. Ian was too scared of getting attached, in fear that Mickey will split when shit hits the fan, but Mickey was scared of developing feelings for the redhead. Mickey’s probably never felt this way for anyone else—how could he? He wears a fucking wedding band, most people tend to leave married men alone—and no doubt he was scared shitless. “Well.. they’re fucking,” Mandy decided to say, “and no doubt in mind that they have fucked on the bed, and I sleep there.”

“That’s why you need a new apartment?” Casey asked, raising an eyebrow.

“That, and I have little to no privacy,” Mandy continued to explain, “and neither do they. And they need privacy, for..” she trailed off, painting a vivid picture in both their minds. Both Casey and Mandy cringed, Mandy’s stomach turning uncomfortably.

“What are they, anyways?” Casey inquired.

“Fuck if I know.” Mandy’s eyes scanned the diner, looking for a specific freckly redhead with a plastered smile, repeating the same words for people dining at the place, but didn’t see him. “Where’s Ian?”

“You mean he’s not here?”

“No shit, fuckhead.” Mandy’s heart accelerated in fear, and looked at her best friend, worry painted on his features. The two wordlessly got up after paying for the food they’ve been munching on, both internally praying that it wasn’t what they both dreaded it was.

 

***************

“Hurry the fuck up,” Casey said, his voice lower than a whisper. Mandy was unlocking the door with fumbling hands, and successfully managed to open the door, walking inside, Casey right behind her.

It was what they both dreaded—Ian was laying on the bed, blankly staring at the cream white wall in front of him. _Fuck._ Mandy tentatively sat on the bed and put a hand on Ian’s arm. “Ian?” Ian took a shaky breath and closed his eyes, eyebrows furrowed in sadness. “Hey.” She raised her shaky hand to Ian’s head, stroking his hair.

“Leave me alone,” Ian mumbled.

She ignored his request. “Let’s go get some food, yeah?” Mandy asked, keeping her voice light. She turned her head to look at Casey, mouthing “go get Fiona.” Casey understood and nodded once, glancing at Ian before heading out.

“Not hungry,” Ian mumbled, as if speaking was sucking the miniscule amount of energy out of him.

“You have to eat, sweetheart.”

“Not hungry.”

“Well, I’m not leaving until you do.”

“You’ll leave,” Ian mumbled, “they always leave. _Always.”_

Mandy wondered if this was about Andre, but didn’t dare to ask. “Well, I’m not. I promise you that.” She lowered herself onto the bed, heart twisting painfully at the sight of her best friend, and draped an arm around his waist. “I’m stayin’ right here.”

The room filled with silence, except for Ian’s shaky breaths. Mandy’s ears strained to hear the click of the door of the apartment, and within no time, the soft click Mandy was anticipating for happened, and Mandy could hear the whispers of Casey and Fiona.

“.. like that when we got here,” Mandy could hear Casey whisper, and turned around to see them walk in, sitting up, but her hand still on Ian.

“Hey, Ian,” Fiona said, her voice holding fake cheerfulness, and walked over to the side Ian was facing kneeling down so she was at Ian's level, and touched his cheek. “Hungry? I got you a pie from work.”

“I’m not fucking hungry,” Ian replied.

“Did you eat anything before?”

“No.”

“Ian, honey, you have to eat.”

“ _I’m not hungry._ ” Mandy got up, letting Fiona try to get Ian up, and walked out of the room, Casey following suit.

“Fuck,” Casey cursed, dragging a hand down his face. “I thought he was getting better.”

“Yeah, so did I,” Mandy replied, running a hand through her hair, when she suddenly had a epiphany. “Think Mickey will be able to get him up?”

“It’s worth a shot,” Casey said. Mandy nodded, and dialled her brother’s number, but it had gotten straight to voicemail. So Mandy tried again, and again, and again.

“He’s not picking up,” Mandy said, swallowing the frustration and desperation dying to be let out. “I’m gonna go look for him, okay? Stay with Ian at all times, and if he gets suicidal—”

“Mandy,” Casey interrupted her, grabbing her arms, “I got this. Okay?” He touched her cheek, in a brotherly way.

“Okay,” Mandy nodded, “okay.” This was Casey, Ian’s best friend. Ian’s in good hands, she knows that. And with that, she headed out the door.

 

***************

The sun was slowly dipping under the horizon. Mandy’s legs screamed for her to give up, to go back with her tail between her legs. Her heart, however, told her to keep looking, because if anyone could get Ian to get out of bed, it would be her brother.

That is, if Mickey was willing to cooperate.

She found her older brother, leaning against a building, cigarette dangling between his lips, looking absolutely horrible. She willed herself to go up to Mickey. “Ay!”

“Was spam-calling me not fucking enough?” Mickey grumbled.

“I wouldn’t have to call you so many times if you fucking picked up, asshole,” Mandy replied.

“I was busy.”

“It’s important.”

“I don’t care,” Mickey replied, looking away from his sister. Mandy fought the urge to hit her brother, swallowing her frustration for the umpteenth time that day.

“It’s Ian,” Mandy replied, which made the older sibling look at her, “he won’t get out of bed.” Her eyes watered, feeling absolutely horrible for her best friend.

Mickey’s eyes widened slightly, Adam apple bobbing up and down. “Let’s go.” Both siblings half-walked, half-jogged to the station, only to see construction workers surrounding the place.

“How long will it take for the L to get fixed?” Mandy asked, her brother too scared to talk.

“Don’t know,” the man replied.

“Jesus,” Mandy replied, and both siblings walked out, eyes scanning for a taxi, and walking over to one when they do find one. To their frustration, another man with a briefcase got in as soon as they did.

“Get out,” Mickey ordered.

“I have a meeting,” the man argued.

“Does it look like we give a shit? Get out!” Both siblings yelled at the man to get out of the taxi, until he reluctantly obliged. Mandy turned to the taxi driver, telling him where to go while Mickey pulled out the money to give.

 

****************

The ride seemed to take forever, with soft music spilling out of the radio, Mandy’s heart beating hard in fear, and Mickey touching his face and pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. Both siblings practically spilled out of the cab when they arrived at the building, and ran inside the elevator, pressing the button of the floor Ian was in. Mandy slumped against the wall, her body giving in to tiredness.

“This is all my fault,” Mickey muttered, shaking his head. Mandy tiredly turned her head to look at her brother, surprised to see his eyes glistening with tears. “All my fault.”

“What happened?” Mandy inquired, but Mickey didn’t reply. “Mickey. What happened?”

Just then, the elevator _ding_ ed when they got to the floor, the doors sliding open, and both siblings walked to the apartment, Mickey barging in and Mandy following suit. Casey was sitting on the couch with Lip, and Mandy almost wept when they looked at her, but was too tired to.

“We managed to make him eat,” Casey explained, “but he won’t get up. Fiona's still in there with him.”

“Fuck,” Mickey cursed, touching his face again, and walked into the room. Mandy walked over to her boyfriend, wanting to give the last of her energy into comforting his distressed self, and wrapped her arms around him when he got up, while wondering what happened between Mickey and Ian to shake Ian up that bad.


	12. Chapter 12

Ian was out of tears long before Mandy and Casey had come and seen him in his depressed state. The weight of the pain crushed Ian, and his heart shattered into miniscule fragments as tears rolled down his face one by one. What was just a couple of tears turned into a waterfall, pouring down and coating his face with salty water.

Ian knew he’d leave; people always leave him. They were never permanent in his life. Ian should’ve known before he let those three words pour out of his mouth. Bottling up his feelings was less painful than this. At least then, Blue would still be here.

Ian didn’t understand how things could go so wrong so quickly. They were laughing and joking and kissing before Ian said those three words, and now he’s alone, the sound of quiet sobs and wet sniffles filling up the crammed apartment.

Ian didn’t know when exactly, but he felt the feeling of sadness overwhelm him, sucking out the energy he had to go to work and pretend that everything’s okay, that his heart wasn’t breaking, that his life didn’t feel like it was falling apart.

When Mandy and Casey had come in, Ian was shutting down slowly, retreating back into his dark cave, praying for the world to go away. Blinking seemed like it was hard to do, so Ian closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but his body didn’t want to sleep.

He felt like his world was falling apart. Everything he knew came crashing down and soon enough, he was surrounded by the rubble of everything that made his life tolerable. When Mandy held him, he was too tired to push her away, to tell her to leave, so he let her do what she wanted.

And then Fiona came, with food. His stomach flipped uncomfortably, as he tried to tell her that he wasn’t hungry. She wouldn’t listen, however; she never listened when Ian went into a depressive state. If she could, she’d shove food in Ian’s mouth herself and make him chew and swallow.

He let her talk to him, let her fill him in on stuff he could care less about, because he just didn’t have the energy to tell her to shut up. But soon enough, she announced that she had to leave, and planted a kiss on Ian’s head. Ian almost felt like he was a kid again; like he felt like he was indestructible, that no one could ruin him.

Little did he know that his own dysfunctional brain would ruin him.

That was what it all came down to, right? If Ian was mentally stable, Andre would still be here, and who knows, maybe Ian would fall for Andre. Ian would have his feelings reciprocated then.

He’d be in the Army, protecting the country like he wanted to do for most of his life. Him and Andre would eventually get married, and adopt a dog or some shit—a rescue dog, a Staffie probably—and they’d live happy ever after. Except..

Except that he’d never create a relationship with Blue. Blue wouldn’t be “Blue”; no, he’d be Mickey Milkovich, a thug to Ian. And Mandy.. Mandy would just be his little sister that Ian would remember as “that girl I had a couple classes with back in high school.” But none of that would matter.. right?

He closed his eyes, trying to imagine the perfect life Ian would have with Andre, but whenever he’d try to picture Andre, he’d picture Blue instead. Blue with his witty comebacks. Blue with his charming smile. Blue with his kisses and his tentative touches. Blue with his tiny freckles, freckles that weren’t noticed unless Ian was inches away from his face. Blue with his eyebrows that arched even more when he raised them. Blue with his sapphire eyes, and raven hair, and tattooed knuckles, and endless ticks—like brushing the pad of his thumb (or knuckle) against the side of his nose, or his tongue licking the corner of his lips, or dragging his lower lip between his teeth. Blue.

 _Fuck._ It was evident that Ian wanted his picture-perfect future with Blue. Not Andre, not Kash, not Ned; Blue. No one else but Blue.

But did Blue want the same thing?

Ian’s train of thought was disturbed when he heard murmurs out in the living room, and footsteps slowly ascending; as if Ian’s new visitor was hesitant on wanting to see Ian like this. Ian couldn’t blame them; if he was someone else, he wouldn’t want to see himself like this. Ian knew well what it looked like from the outside when someone went into a depressive state; he’s seen Monica like this before. _Code Pink._

Fiona had left the room—Ian assumed, as he heard the door close—and Ian felt the bed dip, as his new visitor lowered themselves beside him. Ian guessed it was Mandy again, but they draped their arm over Ian’s waist, and pressed their lips on the back of Ian’s neck. _Blue._

“Fuck,” Blue said against Ian’s skin, trembling voice barely louder than a whisper. Tattooed fingers circled around Ian’s wrist, and Ian’s eyes watered, as he felt the familiar lump form in his throat. Blue pulled him closer, holding him tighter. “Fuck.”

“You left me,” Ian said, hating how his voice was thick and shaky. He hated how weak he sounded. He wanted to yell at Blue, to tell him how badly it hurt when Blue walked out that door, but he couldn’t.

“I know,” Blue replied, and buried his face into Ian’s back, “fuck, I-I panicked and.. split. I hate myself for doing that to you.” Ian could feel something wet his back. “I hate myself for hurting you.” Ian heard a wet sniffle from behind him, and his heart ached. He mustered up the energy to turn around, to face Blue. Blue raised a hand to touch Ian’s cheek, wiping away the tears that escaped.

“I hate you,” Ian mumbled.

“I know.”

Both men laid there in silence, and Ian looked into those sapphire irises, the sclera around it tinged with red from the crying. “I lied,” Ian admitted, “I couldn’t hate you.”

Blue let out a watery laugh, thumb rubbing against Ian’s cheek soothingly as he sniffled. “I’d hate me if I were you.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not,” Ian replied. His eyes travelled to Blue’s tiny freckles. “It sucks.”

“Having someone run out like they saw some paranormal shit when you confess your love to them?”

“Yeah.” Blue stared at him for a while before pressing his lips to Ian’s. Ian didn’t have the energy to kiss him back, but enjoyed those lips nonetheless. It was gentle, loving; like their first kiss.

Blue pulled back, seemingly not minding that Ian didn’t kiss back. “I love you,” Blue admitted, which made the broken pieces of Ian’s heart fit back together—as if it wasn’t crushed in the first place—to flutter inside his chest. Blue waited patiently for Ian’s reply.

“You love me?” Ian asked.

“Yes, that’s what I said.”

“You’re not just saying that to make me happy?”

“No,” Blue said, “I love you, Ian. I ran out because.. because I’ve never had someone love me. I panicked, and I regret it, so much. I almost lost you; I don’t want to go through that again.” Blue swallowed, his Adam apple bobbing up and down. He pressed his lips against Ian’s again, and this time Ian reciprocated. Blue loves him. Blue _loves_ him.

“I love you, dipshit,” Ian mumbled against his lips.

“I love you too, Ginger,” Blue replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had typed this up half asleep so if shit doesn't make sense, i'm sorry. but anyways this was easier to type (CAUSE I LIVE FOR GALLAVICH FLUFF. I LIKE THE FLUFF MORE THAN THE SMUT) but yeah the sequel to this will be more smutty, since ian and mickey are gonna be together right off the bat rather than this one where they kissed by the end of it. anyways, enjoy, lovelies.
> 
> \- Gaylagher


	13. Chapter 13

Weeks passed by and Ian was back on his feet, taking his meds, and going to work again. Blue was by his side whenever he was free, laying in bed and coaxing Ian to do mundane tasks with kisses and random confessions of love, until Ian had mustered up the energy to go back into his ordinary routine—wake up, take his meds, eat, work, come home, eat, take a shower, fall asleep, repeat the next day—but it didn’t seem like he was autopilot anymore.

He didn’t dread waking up anymore, because that meant he got to wake up with Blue in his arms, and that was fucking perfect for Ian.

Ian was currently sitting on their bed, watching Blue dress himself for work. Blue put on one of his button down shirts that hugged his torso in all the right ways, when the question toying around in his head poured out of his mouth.

“Ay,” Ian started, “what are we?” He dreaded what the answer would be. Blue didn’t do relationships, from what Ian remembers.

Blue looked up to look at the redhead, and licked his lips. “We’re together, Ginger. Thought it was obvious.”

“Not to me, apparently,” Ian said, a grin threatening to appear on his lips. “You sure you want to do this? It’s a huge step.”

Blue crawled onto the bed and pressed his lips against his boyfriend’s. The kiss was brisk, and Blue pulled back sooner than Ian would’ve liked him to. “Don’t care how big it is. We’re a fuckin’ couple.”

Ian didn’t bother suppressing his smile this time. “Alright, babe.”

“Pet names are gay.” Blue stood back up, giving Ian one of his charming smiles.

“Says the dude with a boyfriend,” Ian teased. Blue raised his eyebrows, feigning surprise.

“Hold up,” Blue started, “you’re tellin’ me that I’m gay?”

“Yes, shockingly,” Ian joked.

“Fuck,” Blue shook his head. “I’m a pole-smoker. Never woulda guessed.” Sarcasm dripped from his tone, and Ian grabbed a pillow, hitting his boyfriend with it, making Blue chuckle.

“I’m working a double-shift today,” Ian explained, getting up and dressing himself as well, “am I going to see you at Patsy’s?”

“No,” Blue replied, “but I’ll meet you at the cafe. Ay, now that we’re officially a couple, will I be able to kick the asses of the men that hit on you?”

“I don’t want you to go to jail, Mickey,” Ian replied.

“Then give me a reason to not go to jail,” Blue said.

Ian thought about it for a couple beats, and a smirk played on his lips when he thought of a reason. “We wouldn’t be able to fuck if you went to jail.”

“Good point,” Blue grinned, and gave Ian another kiss. Ian caressed his cheek, as the kiss became more passionate. Blue nipped at his lower lip, and both men opened their mouths, tongues dancing lazily together. Ian was drowning in giddiness; Blue was _his,_ officially. That meant no more bottling his feelings up, or fearing how Blue would react when Ian would tell him he loved him, or resisting the strong urge to kiss him.

_Finally._

***************

“You’re late, asshole,” Ian said when his boyfriend stood next to the table he was preoccupying. Blue refused to sit, however.

“This isn’t our spot.”

“‘Our spot’ is taken,” Ian replied.

“That’s outrageous,” Blue grumbled and sat down across from Ian, his knee touching Ian’s. Neither of them moved their knees away. The small action made Ian’s heart thump against his chest and he had to relearn how to breathe properly again.

“I know,” Ian replied, sarcasm evident in his tone, “it’s the end of the world.” Blue smiled, obviously glad that Ian was back to his old self; the sarcastic, funny, witty redhead that Blue had fallen hard for. Ian was glad they could joke around like this again, in the comfort of the cafe, where it all started.

“Mandy wants us to get another apartment,” Blue said, and he sipped the coffee he got, “a bigger one.”

“Then let’s do it,” Ian replied without hesitation, and sipped on his hot chocolate, the hot liquid warming his gullet up, “with two bedrooms this time. We would have our own bedroom. Think of all the uninterrupted sex we could be having.”

“So is that what this is about?” Blue asked, raising his eyebrows in mock surprise, “thought you loved me.”

“I loved the old you,” Ian replied, a bit too dramatically, “now I don’t even know who you are anymore.” He rubbed Blue’s thigh under the table, the raven-haired man reflexively looking around. Blue wasn’t used to PDA; he was used to fucking in semi-public places, but not PDA.

Both men stayed in silence, Ian’s hand leaving Blue’s thigh and bringing it up to the table. Blue’s sapphire eyes landed on the pink scars on Ian’s right palm, before looking into Ian’s emerald eyes. “You never told me how you burned your hand.”

“No,” Ian argued, “no, I did.”

“Yeah, but that was a lie so it doesn’t fuckin’ count.”

Ian sighed. “You don’t wanna know.”

“I wouldn’t be asking if I did,” Blue replied. Ian diverted his eyes from his boyfriend’s, gritting his teeth. He hated that time period; adjusting to his meds had made him feel dead inside—as if the meds slowly killed everything that made him human. It made him suicidal, want to hurt himself, tear the skin that contained his insides, and he hated it.

“I burned myself,” Ian said, voice trembling ever so slightly reluctantly looking back at his boyfriend, “I was adjusting to my meds, and wanted to hurt myself. That’s what those meds do, they-they make you feel emotionally numb, make you want to remind yourself that you’re still alive, make you do something completely irrational—” he gestured to his scars “—just to feel.. human.”

Blue stared at him, no pity in his eyes. That’s what Ian hated—pity. He found love, sadness, surprise, but no pity. “Do you still have those urges?” Blue finally asked, struggling to put his poker face mask on. Ian knew it hurt Blue to know that he used to hurt himself, and that fact alone made sadness seep into his bones. He didn’t want to hurt the man he loved.

“No,” Ian replied, truthfully. Blue’s shoulders sagged, seemingly content with Ian’s answer. For months, Ian’s had this void in his chest, sucking the life out of him, until Blue came along. Blue sneaked his way into Ian’s life, and worked to fill that void. “Pretty dark subject for a date, huh?”

“This is a date?” Blue asked.

“If you want it to be.”

“I want a do-over. Don’t want our fucked up pasts bein’ brought up.”

“Then when do you want to have our date?”

“Tomorrow?”

Ian smiled. “Sure.”

 

***************

The minute Ian closed the door, Blue’s lips were on his, desperately wanting to continue the passionate kiss they started in the morning. His tattooed fingers tangled in Ian’s red ones, and Ian’s long fingers fumbled with unbuttoning Blue’s shirt, and ran his hands along his boyfriend’s torso, wanting to feel the soft, creamy skin, wanting to memorize every inch of Blue’s body with his fingers, as both men hastily undressed each other, licking and kissing whatever they could lick and kiss, while clumsily making their way to the bed.

Blue pushed Ian onto the bed, and straddled him while Ian reached for the lube packet. “Gonna fuckin’ ride you into the mattress,” Blue said, while attaching his lips to Ian’s neck, “show you how well I take your fucking cock.”

The words went straight to Ian’s cock, making it twitch, and Ian slipped a lube-coated finger inside Blue, eliciting a hiss of pleasure and pain. Ian made quick work of opening his boyfriend up before taking his fingers out and coating his cock with lube.

Blue lined his opening with Ian’s cock before taking him in, and used his strong thigh muscles to ride Ian, gradually picking up speed. Ian was a mess of moans. “Fuck, baby, I love you so much,” Ian managed to say, “so much.”

Ian angled his hips so he could hit Blue’s prostate, and jerked Blue up, which caused the older man to cry out in pleasure. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” Blue managed to say, and shot white streams onto Ian, the redhead not that far behind. Blue got off of the redhead and lowered himself next to Ian, both men struggling to catch their breaths.

Euphoria washed over Ian, and Ian savoured it. For the first time in a long time, Ian didn’t feel fearful that he’ll be left alone. He was surrounded by people who he loved, and who loved him back. Things couldn’t get any better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAHHHH WE'RE DONE WITH PART 1. the second one will be up ASAP. stay tuned for that
> 
> also THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE KUDOS!! we hit our 100 kudos mark yesterday and thank you to everyone who did leave comments, your lovely comments make my day!
> 
> until next time,
> 
> \- Gaylagher


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